


The Undesignated

by CrazyLaughter



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Future Fic, Happens in 2028, Hopefully Not an Ambiguous Ending, Kid Fic, M/M, NOT A MPREG, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Beta Read, Post Band Break Up, Suspense, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-06-09 14:31:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 90,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6911029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyLaughter/pseuds/CrazyLaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moon Styles always knew that her father and three others were in band together called 'One Direction'. What she didn't know was that, in fact that the band had five members and the fifth unnamed member other than Harry- is her undesignated father.</p><p>There's nothing more dangerous than a curious little girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this story has been written by me before. I had cringe worthy writing before, I've decided to edit it. And, the plot will be changed entirely. Even the characters.  
> SLOW UPDATE INTENDED.

Harry didn't wipe away the grin that spread out on his face. Upon seeing the outline of the building, it melted into his lips like butter on a pan. He hasn't been this happy in so long. His daughter is the one to hold his happiness, he noticed that since she was born. He smiled for the first time after one and half year, when his new born daughter was thrust into his arms that day. Light pink skin, squinted eyes, clenched feet in the air, puckered mouth morphed into an adorable yawn, a pair of soft tiny feet kicking at Harry's chest , that's how she's remembered by her father. Every time Harry thinks of his first memory of her, it leaves him with a fond smile playing on her lips.

 Of course, there were times before his daughter that he didn't talk about or like at all. Still, Moon brought in the sunlight (the irony of that) where he was rotting in the dark. She was the radiance that kept Harry away from depression, or rather, pulled him out of it. But, he didn't like thinking about it. He's let go of it. He's left it as a monster under his bed, one that will catch up to him. But, he has no plans on getting overly nostalgic.

 But, then, Moon is an aspect that evolved from the past. But, he's going to ignore that fact.

 Moon has grown up so much, right before his eyes. She's finished her year seven and he still can't believe she'll be going to high school next to next fall. They've been through everything together. Crushes, period talks, midnight Skype calls. She's becoming a woman so quick, it scares the light out of him. She's going to leave him too, at some point, without meaning to.

 Instead of pondering further on the rueful subject, he cranes his neck over the swarm of people waiting at the entrance. Moon has been independent her whole life, something Harry lost at. She stayed at the hostel and took care of herself, he couldn't be more proud.

 Hornby's Residential High-school was the best in Los Angeles. She deserved the best even if it was for seeing his daughter only for vacations. They lived in Avalon, a small town a few miles from Los Angeles, where they were away from fame and it's fickle hands. Moon used to come every February for two weeks (a special permission from the school) to celebrate Harry's birthday and maybe go on a mini vacation. Harry hated to send her back or to not have her presence, because honestly, he lived for her. But, it was for the best.

 Harry impatiently drums his fingers. He hasn't seen her since Easter, a few months ago and it was eating at his insides. She was becoming more clever and more attentive, making her father breakfast and picking up on his bad habits and scolding her like the second mother she was.

 The front of the hostel was still rumbling with a sea of awaiting parents, and if he went in there, finding Moon would be like looking for a needle into a haystack. But still, Harry jumps out of the car and strides to join them. He wasn't going to sit around and wait any longer. He weaves his way through the parking lot through all the cars, but doesn't blend into the crowd. He scans over them for a sandy brown-haired short girl. Someone taps him on the shoulder, he flips around involuntarily. "What?"

 His face softens when he sees her. Moon looks older now, face lengthened with defined features, blamed on puberty. She's the same height as before, ready in her summer attire of a loose t-shirt and shorts. Like that, there is somehow the touch of the same person from a few months ago. Same grey eyes, rosy grin and curious expression. Her eyes are brimming with happiness.

 The best or worst part -Harry can't decide which one- is that Moon looks exactly like her other father. She's a photocopy of his him, thin legs and arms, crooked grin. She's got a rounder face, but it wasn't mattering.

 "Pappa?" She says in a mellifluous voice.

 Harry realises he's been staring for a while, he shakes his head to come out of the reverie. "Moonie!" He surges forward to bunch her up in his arms, lifting her off the ground and into his arms. Her laughter rings in his ears like his favourite tape. When he sets her down, he's going into father mode. "Moon Joanne! Look at you! Have you been eating at all? Are those bones I see-"

 "Pappa," she interrupts, pulling on his elbow. The accent from her father's is mixed with a little American, being brought up there. "You're attracting too much attention. We can't be mobbed by the media again."

 "Don't tell me what to do!" Harry exclaims in faux anger. "I can't even recognise you from your old self. You've become all lean and measly. You look exactly like-" he cuts himself off, clamping his jaw shut. He looks down at his shoes abashedly and looks back again, praying for her to not realise his idiotic slip.

 "Like who, Pappa?" Of course.

 "Like those models you see on the telly that participate for Miss World competitions," he covers up carefully, but a little too quickly to raise suspicion. Moon raises an expectant eyebrow at him. "I've just missed you is all. Come along, let's go home."

 "Yeah," Moon clutches her stroller and pulls it with her. Harry can't stop looking at her, for little time has done magic and she looks so much like her other father. He realises that it's going to get difficult to look at her and thinking every time. The whole summer. Oh God.

 It's not like Harry doesn't want her home. He loves his daughter very much, probably a little much. They bake with each other and have laughs that no one else will understand. But, if Moon will have spurts like this, Harry won't be able to contain it. Fear will nestle in his bones like maggots. He's worked so hard to move on from his old life, from his old heart-breaks and the old chains that kept him bound. One Direction would have been the best thing in his life, still was. He pursued his dream, but it had ill-effects as well. Everything turned bitter at some point.

 He doesn't regret having brothers like Zayn, Niall or Liam. They stuck around even after countless times of giving up. Everybody got back on the saddle somehow. The fifth member -who he doesn't like remembering, or maybe he does- was there too, but it ended bad. It wasn't his fault, either of theirs, actually.

 There were things to resent. The man he fell in love with is still in his mind's reflection. Their love was a ballad built with walls of lament. Harry made one of the biggest mistakes anyone could ever make. He walked away. More like, ran away. That's what he always did. When things got too hard, running was the easiest option. He should have known that both of them were weak. That's how regret became the verses in his Bible. He still does read them. If not every night, then every week. He misses him like it's a part of his daily routine. Like, the blood flowing through his body. It doesn't stop. If it does, he knows he'll die.

 He comes into Harry's head at different times. Like when he lays down on the pillow and realises the one next to him is undisturbed, or when he's making bacon for only himself or even when he sees extra large sweaters. Little things had large memories.

 "Calla!" Moon calls out to someone, stopping abruptly. Harry once again has to shake himself out of it. Her friend with wired glasses comes running up to them. Behind her, the respective father saunters with a broad tight smirk.

 Harry almost rolls his eyes. He's met Calla's father before, backing away immediately at his blatant attempts of flirting. It was almost flustering for him when he didn't have a constant love life. He knew that Harry was famous and called him 'quite the catch'. It gets harder and harder for him to keep up with his façade. Calla's dad always brought up old things, asking how the band's been and how everyone was. They hadn't even met up all at once before. He went to a couple of award shows with Niall when Moon wasn't home. He's met with Zayn to reconcile their friendship and both Liam and Zayn sometimes. But, never more than that. They had separate lives now, more colleagues than friends.

 "Hello, Kiefer," he says just to be polite, when he approaches.

 "Hi Harry, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," he proclaims with an exaggerated wink. Harry internally cringes and forces himself not to show it on the outside. Moon stands on her toes to hug Calla and smiles with crinkled eyes. Kiefer nudges him with the still wearing smirk. "How'd they do as step-sisters, do you think?"

 Harry chokes on his spit. Instead of saying something snide, he chooses to clear his throat idly.

 After the little reunion, Harry leads them towards the car. With a simper, he tosses his car keys at her, which she clumsily catches. "I got a little something in the back, why don't you check it out?" He nods towards the car.

 Moon presses the open button on the car remote and the back door slides in the hood revealing a brand new flickerboard, glinting dark blue under the intense sunlight. She lets out a long squeal, launching herself at him. "Thank you, thank you, so much, Pappa! It's so pretty!"

 He chuckles lowly. "You're welcome."

 She backs up and tentatively goes to the board. Moon runs her hands on the edges of the smooth board before lifting it out and setting it on the ground. She glances at Harry for approval -which he gives with a smile- and then bends down to press the start button. It pushes off the ground and lingers in the air. "This is so cool! I can go anywhere I want now!"

 "If you're spending too much of time with it, I'll make you pay for the fuel from your allowance."

 "Deal." She jumps off the board and turns it off and sets it back in the back.

 

Harry winds an arms around her back and leads her to the front. "We'll got quite a long drive. Let's go."

 

 

\---

As soon as the customary paint faint 'Welcome to Avalon' board ran past them, Moon impulsively rolled down her window and looped her head out. The fresh air was home to her, enlightening her face and making her realise how much she'd miss of it all.

"Your face is going to burn off at the speed we're going, kiddo. Didn't you learn that in physics?" Harry laughs at her, eyes flickering back and forth from the road to her.

"Was a touch woozy, but I'm alright, now," she quips, pulling herself back from the harsh wind flow and grinning deliriously at her father. "Can't wait to reach home. How much more time will it take?"

"Another ten minutes, if you can wait that long."

 In an exact of eight minutes, their car zooms past a familiar wooden archway. She peers out affectionately at the large white house in front and the vineyard surrounding it. Before they could properly come to a stop, Moon was already flinging herself out through the roll up door.

 The smell of cinnamon floated in the air, making her hum in delight. She circled the house once before standing in the backyard. The grass was greener from when she left, the painted goals at the two ends as intact as they ever where. She drops in the middle of the field, sprawling out her limbs to the sky like a starfish and sighs. She can hear the crickets chirping and the hawks overhead squawking out a good afternoon to her.

 "You tired, pumpkin?" She heaves her head up and sees Harry looking at her expectantly, soccer ball tucked under his arm.

 "Never!" She jumps up, whipping off the sweatshirt around the waist and throwing it elsewhere. "Bring it on!"

 "You can't get more dramatic than that," he guffaws out a laugh and plops the ball to the grass before kicking it between his feet.

"You're horrible at soccer, I'll beat you by the strike of lightening!"

Harry scrunches his nose at her, foot pausing over the ball. "Don't say soccer. It's football. That's English blood flowing in your veins, so please." He kicks the ball at her.

She rolls her eyes but nonetheless, stops the football with her heel and guides it away from her father. "Whatever. I'd like to see you win this game and _then_ we'll decide if it's soccer or football."

They try their best to play a proper game, but it only consists of Harry falling over two dozen times and Moon laughing her head off even more times. Harry lets the ball slide past between his legs two times too many. In the end, he sinks to his knees and holds up a metaphorical white flag by raising his arms and hanging his head. "I'm done," he pants out. "I'm done. You won. I accept it."

Moon laughs reverberatingly, the sweet sound echoing the end of the large background. She tightens her ponytail and skips away towards the vineyard. She calls back,"I'll come back in a few!"

The thing about running past vineyards is that the air whipping your face feels like it's calling out for you. The sun rakes it's beams on the right side of her face, making her squint one eye and continue sprinting. She ducks between the grapevines in the middle and springs up to pierce out some of the grapes with her teeth. The taste of sweet juice fills her mouth and almost all of her leftover homesickness is gone with a snap. There was no other kind like the Californian Concord.

When she reaches the winery, she shields herself behind the barrels of fermenting wine. She spots Charlie in the back, out in the sun. When she strides closer, she can see him standing in the large tub, stomping and crushing all the grapes they must have picked a week ago. She stifles a giggle and pounces out from her hiding place, roaring.

Charlie trips over his feet and falls on his bum in the tub with a noisy splat. His widened eyes size down to give place to that grin that he always grins. His chocolate skin glistens in the sun just like his thousand watt smile. "Miss Moon!"

"Charlie!"

"It's been quieter around here without you," he explains without the grin leaving as he stands up again. "I guess that'll be something I'll be missing from now on."

"Hey!" She holds her hips and tilts her head up challengingly before she notices the tub and the squashed grapes. "Can I join you?"

"Sure. Make sure to wash your feet and legs good, okay? We might not be the ones to drink it, but we don't any unnecessary germs going in here."

Moon glowers at him but complies immediately and returns to squash the remaining grapes. It was the best part of the process of making wine. Charlie had been doing it for the last ten years, and his back is strong from it. Despite it, The perks of having a vineyard. Once they've finished the tub, she's sweating like a spring and has to sit down the rim to avoid fainting. Charlie pats her back gently. "You should go eat something, Miss Moon. You look like you haven't eaten in days."

"That's what Pappa said," she huffs, stepping out of the tub and washing herself up at the nearest water barrel. She walks back to the house instead of running, plucking out fruit here and there again ever since Charlie had introduced her to the idea of eating. When she's back inside the house, Harry's making tomato puree, flicking the sweat away from his brow.

"Lunch is almost ready," he says when he notices her dragging her feet across the floorboards. "Where've you been?"

"I went down the winery and said hi to Charlie. And then, I helped him crush grapes," she pauses to let her father chuckle. "He thinks I'm a nuisance."

Harry laughs raucously. "I don't blame him. Do you want to unpack until I set it out or do you want to set the table?"

Moon glances at the stroller waiting for her at the end of the stairs and contemplates. She walks into the kitchen, stands on her toes to grab a pack of _Oreos_ from the pantry and saunters out.

"I told you lunch is getting ready, what are you eating now for?" Harry hollers over the noise of the blender.

"I need energy to unpack, Pappa," she whines, almost missing Harry's eye roll. She lags her luggage upstairs but fails to unpack because she's busy eating. By the time her father calls her for lunch, she isn't even half full so she scampers downstairs and plops into her usual seat. "Hungry!" She bangs her cutlery next to her plate and looks at him impatiently.

Harry shakes his head, albeit fondly. "You'd be starving without me, child. Be thankful." He brings in a pot of scalding hot pasta and shovels some into her plate and his before setting it between her seat and his and placing the mitten aside. He sits across her and sighs exasperatedly when she's already dug in, mouth slathered with sauce. "I was hoping we could say grace," he mutters lowly.

She looks up from her plate, guilt dousing her face and the wrinkles on her forehead. "Oops?" At that Harry almost drops his fork and his jaw hardens. He looks begrudgingly at his plate, glaring as though it had betrayed his trust. Moon stops eating at once, carefully setting her fork down and she frowns at her father. "Pappa, are you-"

She's cut off by the shrill ringing of Harry's phone. When he takes it out, the phone projects a hologram in the air with Anne's face wavering in the air. She's gotten a bit ripe with time, but is still beautiful. Technology is still weird for him. He picks the call, though. "Mama?"

"Hello, lovie, how are you?"

"I'm fine, Mama. How are you?"

"I'm alright," the woman trills cheerily for someone in her fifties. "Isn't Moonie coming home today?"

"Yeah," Harry switches his gaze to his daughter, who's watching him intently. "She already came home. You wanna talk to her?"

"Please."

Harry hands the phone to Moon, mouthing that it's her grandmother and she lights up. "Grandmumma!"

"Moonie, darling, how are you?"

The said person grins to herself and shrugs. Whenever she talked to Anne or Gemma or anyone who lived in London, her accent came back in full swing, with having a father who refused to lose his English touch even after years of living in the States. "I'm okay. We were having lunch."

"Then, I won't interrupt you too long, alright? I just wanted to know if you were coming by this summer. It's been a while since I've seen your beautiful face."

Moon laughs in response. "You'll have to convince Pappa, Grandmumma. I think he wants to keep me for himself. Besides, England is cooler, isn't it? It's scorching here, you have to get him to agree."

"I'll do that, sweets." With a little more small talk, Anne hangs up and Moon passes the phone back to her father. "You have to let me go to Holmes Chapel this summer. Grandmumma invited me." Harry furrows his eyebrows and opens his mouth to protest. "You can't say no! I haven't seen her in so long, it's not fair."

Before Harry can even argue, his phone buzzes again. He mumbles something that sounds like _oh god mum_ and produces it again. The holograms projecting from it isn't a woman's, but a rather familiar face. It's Zayn's.

Harry tentatively lifts the call, holding it up to his ear with a quivering hand. "Zayn?"

"You were never one to say hello, were you?" Zayn chuckles lightly.

"Why are you calling?" Harry felt guarded, he always did when any of the lads called. God, he still called them lads despite knowing that they were grown rugged men. That part of life scared him nonetheless, like a blast from the past would snatch away all he has right now. They haven't had a proper reunion is years and it's mostly Harry's fault, because he doesn't have guts and the others don't force him. But, he does hear time to time news.

Zayn releases a single every once in a while, being a famous R&B singer after he departed from their band. All of them had a rift for a while -except Liam- but soon overcame it before the band broke up. Liam produces with co-owner of the label, that he didn't like talking about. They were joint songwriters just like in the olden days. Niall travelled quite a lot, being the recent divorcee.

"That," Zayn says slowly, "is a good question." Harry waits for him to continue. "So, Liam proposed. Again."

Harry rolls his eyes and his shoulders sag in relief. He's glad he wasn't met with news that would kill him or panic that would break him. "And you said no. Again. He's proposed what? Four times already? You've just been postponing. I don't even understand you two."

"Five's a charm."

"That's three, you darn idiot," Harry hisses, but quickly knits his eyebrows together. "Wait, what do you mean?"

"I mean that...I finally said yes," he answers nonchalantly, like it's not a big deal at all.

"Zayn!" Harry exclaims over the phone, spitting into the receiver. "Congrats, tell Liam I said the same! Finally."

"That's what Liam said too," he chuckles again.

"I can't believe you're tying the knot," he breathes, a grin expanding on his face. "How long has it been? Fifteen years since you both got together?"

"Seventeen, actually. Not counting all the bald spots in the middle. I've turned thirty six this year, falling into the grey hair category and all. It's a bit late, I suppose, but I don't regret anything," Zayn trills happily. It's the most gleeful anyone has probably heard him.

"You're one to talk," Harry snorts. "My bloody hairline's almost receding and I'm still single." As soon as the words are out, he regrets them, biting down on his tongue and grimacing.

Zayn must notice too, because he clears his throat. "Anyway, so. How's LA? Moon's home, isn't she?"

"Yeah, I went to pick her up today and we're having lunch," Harry supplied, upbeat. "Are you taking his last name or is he taking yours. Or are you getting it hyphenated?"

"We're thinking of Malik-Payne. Zayn Payne sounds rather funny," the man laughs, till it dissolves in his mouth. "Speaking of last names, I just called you to tell you that we're having the wedding this August," Zayn spouts like he's abruptly remembered.

"That's like three months away!"

"We decided we want a quiet wedding, not many people. Just both our families and all you lads and a few of our mates. Perrie, Jade, maybe Ed, even. Liam doesn't want to stay engaged for too long, he already thinks it's too late," Zayn explains, fond clouding over his fiancé's name. "You should bring Moon too. I haven't seen her in a while and she must have grown a lot. Plus, you both haven't met little Aisha yet."

Harry had forgotten that Zayn and Liam had adopted a little girl a little over an year ago. He almost gives into the promise before his breath catches. "I don't think she'll be able to make it, Z."

"Why not?"

"Because...you know. If you're calling all of us, then I can't let her come." Harry bites down on his lip, hesitance lining his tone. He half-expects the other man to blow off on him, blaming him and scream that it's all his fault.

Instead, Zayn says warningly. "Harry, don't do this."

"I'm sorry, Zayn," Harry pleads a little. "You know I can't do anything about it."

"You're never going to do anything about it. I can't believe I'm lying to him for so many years and you won't come out with it." He sighs like he's tired, probably massaging his temples. They've gotten too old for fire and angst. They don't scream or get angry anymore, it's a thing that perishes with age. Sometimes it can be good, and sometimes not. "Look, I'm not going to say anything. I can't force you to do anything. I'd like it if you brought her, but it's up to you. You're her parent, how you raise her isn't my problem, what you tell her isn't my problem and what you don't tell her isn't my problem either."

Harry can feel a persistent frown slide onto his face. He wants to beg him to stop with the accusations that are like daggers to his heart. He hasn't broken down in a long time, he doubts he can, due to that wall he put between vulnerability and him since he became a father. He can't hold the weight of the truth anymore, but he doesn't have much of a choice. He chose something a long time ago and now he's paying for it.

"Anyway, I'll send you the invitation through email later on. I just called to tell you cause we don't need no formal crap between us, eh? Just RSVP and let me know later. And. Make up your mind about it, 'kay? Don't jump to it. You can make some excuse for bringing her, like she's Gemma's daughter, or something. You always come up with something," with that Zayn ends the call without the slightest of goodbyes and suppressed anger.

Harry brings the phone away from his ear, looking expectantly at the blank screen. Then he glances over his daughter, who's watching him with interested eyes. "Finished?"

"Yeah, but my stomach isn't full," she leans over and dumps another serving into her plate before digging in. The girl had always a large appetite, contrary to her tininess. She pauses and sets her fork down. "So, the phone call?"

"That. Hmm, Zayn called."

Her eyes grew big. "Zayn? As in your Zayn? One Direction Zayn? Uncle Zayn?"

He refuses to look up at her, eyeing his food like it's making his nauseous. Fiddling the fork back and forth, he draws through the sauce and picks at the pasta. "Yes, that's the one."

"Why did he call?"

"Well," Harry sighs, "He's getting married."

Moon seems rather enthusiastic. "With who? Is it a new model again?"

Zayn and Liam were out to the public, only four years ago but rumours still circled them like vultures. Liam was prone to cheating ones and Zayn was tied to a new model almost every two weeks. It wasn't new to them but they seemed happy in what they had. Liam, Zayn and Aisha. Perhaps, it was the reason why Harry couldn't do anything back then. He was scared to the flaming pits of hell, and the claws of media had already dug deep into his neck. He was suffocating and not anyone could give him the breath that was taken away with him. He wonders if he's still breathing, or if he's under the illusion of doing so. He's breathing. Or maybe he isn't.

"Pappa?"

"No, silly. To your Uncle Liam, of course. Who else?" Harry sighs for the umpteenth time.

She bounces in her chair, hair flying around her happy face. "Oh my god. Oh my god! They're getting married, finally! Zayn and Liam are getting married! Yay! When?!"

"In three months, Moonie."

"Three months?!" She gasps dramatically. "That's too soon! When will I buy a dress? I haven't a proper dress! Do you think lavender will look good on me? I think it will, at least I hope it will. And shoes! We have to get the best ones out there. You can't have me looking shabby on their best day, will you? Do you think Auntie Gemma might come here and take me shopping? Oh I hope she will. Or maybe we could ask a few people at your company, they can help-"

"Moon," Harry says sharply. "We aren't going. Or no, you aren't going."

The glee drops like a pendulum off her face, before turning rigid. "Why not?"

"You're not, that's it."

"But, that's not fair, Pappa, you have to let me come to your best friends' wedding! There's going to be a reunion and everyone will be there and we can see Niall and Zayn and Liam all together for once," she continues to protest.

That's exactly what Harry's fear is. He can't let her see all of them together. All of them were chemicals that caused explosions and that's probably why the world loved them. They weren't even best friends anymore, though he hadn't bothered to correct her. But things were still sweet as the knife driving into his gut. "You're not going, and that's final," he says in a wobbly voice, though he wishes it was more firmer.

Moon glowers at him for a long moment, before pushing her chair back and stomping away, throwing out a loud 'fine'. Harry didn't want to think about who's genes she had when it came to drama. 

\---

Moon has been realizing this since a very very long time. It's merely been several weeks since she's come home, her dad has been glum most of the time. It's something new from him. Harry is someone who's in their highest energy levels. She remembers when Harry was the one to jerk her awake on holiday mornings to go play outside. She remembers when Harry used to sing her to sleep. She remembers when Harry used to whack her upside the head when she whisked the cake mix the wrong way, but only playfully.

This isn't the Harry she knows.

Nowadays, she finds her dad doing quite the opposite of what is 'normal' for him. He doesn't look like himself anymore, instead he has bags under his eyes, he doesn't even crack an easy smile anymore when he sees Moon in the morning, it's become revised and forced. Harry flinched whenever Moon came up to him, smiling. Most days, he was quiet, staring up at the ceiling in his rocking chair, as if it was revealing the secrets of the universe. When she'd crawl into bed after a nightmare of a faceless mother, he's sleepily beckon her to his side, but now, he sidles away with his sleepless face.

They have a bakery down the road, the cosy place that Harry owned. He just went there once in a week to check the records and staff, sometimes even Moon went to work there and sneak in biscuits to nibble on. She'd sweep the floors there for fun or sloppily ice the cupcakes and eat all the cookie dough. But, Harry didn't even remember his weekly visits much, since he was running to work most of the time, avoiding Moon more than possible.

But, she does wonder. What would make him this bland? She's never seen her father this way before. What matter could be so sad that would leave him like a shell? What was he keeping from her?

Moon sighs and continues pacing along the carpet in her bedroom, rubbing her toes against the plush material in thought. She runs her hands through her hair, a practice her father was accustomed, something that rubbed off on her. She can distract herself, but she can't see her dad like that.

Later, she decides she's been moping around too much, just like her dad. She could sneak out a visit to somebody's and even go by the bakery to fulfil her dad's duty. She's rummaging through her drawers for her socks, but she can't find her lucky pair with the cats on them. She runs to the top of the stairs, but doesn't descend down them.

"Pappa!" She calls from above, to Harry who's sitting in the living room, reading his morning paper, though it is afternoon. "Have you seen my socks? The ones with the cats on them?"

"I don't know, they're in the bottom drawers!" Harry answers irritably.

"No, I can't find them," Moon whines back.

"I remember folding them up and leaving them in the drawers, check properly!"

"No, Dad, I can't find them!" She yells back.

"It'll right there. I can't help it if you leave your things lying around, Louis!"

Moon freezes in her steps. Did her dad just say 'Louis'? She rushes down, scampering fast and stands in front of her father. Harry seems as fazed as she herself is. He's looking straight ahead at Moon, shock written all over his face. He's chalk white like a stereotypical ghost and his jaw is clenched.

"What did you just say?" Moon asks dubiously.

"I-I told you to find them yourself, they're r-right there," It's the way Harry stutters that gives it all in.

"Did you call me Louis?"

"Of course not," Harry denies it. "I said Moonie."

"Oh, yeah?" She challenges him. "Who's Louis, Pappa? Another one of those wretched interns of yours?"

Harry tries to cover it up, "He's. He's my assistant manager's, personal assistant. He's a pain up there. I usually shout at him when I go, y' know. Must've slipped."

Moon lets it be, but an evolution of theory starts igniting its engine in her head. Obviously, this Louis must mean something to her father in the past. Or her father would never be this flustered. Something Moon has done must have resembled him. She clenches her fist and roots determination in her head. She's going to find out.

\--

"Moonie," Harry pats his asleep daughter's cheek, ignoring the saliva spread out on her cheeks. Her mouth is ajar, and it's no mystery if a fly made it's home in there. "Buddy, you gotta wake up. Wake up, Moon!"

Moon groans and rolls on to her side. "Mhm, No, Pappa. We're all happy here, go away," she grumbles under her breath.

Harry frowns down at her daughter, why is she talking in her sleep? About what? "I'm sorry in advance for this." He positions his palm next his daughter's cheek and slaps her tightly. Moon sits up spluttering and gasps at Harry's smirk.

"Why would you do that?" Moon glares at her father, rubbing her cheek that feels like it's on her fire. The heat isn't really helping either.

Harry ignores her comment, "Alright, I'm going down to the label, take care of yourself. I'll be back in a couple of hours. An emergency came up, but you can stay out of trouble for a little while, can't you?"

"Couldn't you just leave a note on the fridge or something?"

"I'm sorry, I couldn't," Harry retorts sardonically. Sometimes, Moon wonders who the child is between them. She feels like his mother sometimes, but it at least gives her the chance to take care of him. Harry goes downstairs and Moon hears the door shut. She sighs and walks into the bathroom to rid of the sandy taste in her mouth.

Successfully, finding her lucky socks, Moon had gone down to a friend's place for an hour before running by the bakery and baked some cookies and brought them home. At least, it brought back Harry from his state of moodiness. He managed to get Harry back in his shoes. Tired after the cooking, Moon slept off and her dad had to come and wake her in the evening. She hadn't even slept for two hours.

Harry had his own label in the main city of Los Angeles. It was called 'Styles' (which wasn't that awful of a pun, but still was) and it had it's own panel of designers. From hairdressers to make up artists to fashion designers. He employed them and let in interns for an add- on in their résumé. They all contributed to a company that ran by fashion. Luckily, Harry wasn't that busy considering he left the company in the hands of the vice president and only had to check up every two days for it, apart from the wineries.

When the water sprinkles on her in the shower, an idea pops up into Moon's head. Her dad was out, she has all the time in the world (till Harry came back) to ponder about who this Louis is. 'Louis' was a name Moon often heard from the mouths of Zayn, Liam or Niall during eavesdropped conversations. She realises that's where the name strikes a bell. She's heard it when her father murmured in her sleep. But, whoever it was, she never saw him.

She rushes out of the shower immediately and shrugs on a few clothes. She feels guilty for doing it but, the curiosity will get the better of her if she doesn't. Curiosity killed the cat, but this time it'll kill a human being. She walks into his father's bedroom, his heart pounding at the invasion of privacy. There's a foul taste in her mouth, but she tries her best to ignore it. She's not doing something civilized but she really wants to know. She's known this Louis person subconsciously forever but she's never felt these jolts of inquisitiveness rushing through her veins alongside adrenaline.

Moon's shaking hands probe through the objects on her father's desk, his drawers and cupboards. Perhaps, she could go into the attic, but that would only consume too much time and energy and most chances have her end up, finding nothing. She doesn't find anything suspicious. She looks under the pillows, blanket and bedspread, nothing there as well.

She finally slumps down against the frame of the bed in frustration. She couldn't find anything. How can this room not disguise anything? How can it not veil any puzzle? Moon angrily throws the mattress off the bed with balk. Her exasperation is dissipated once she realizes that in-fact, there is something under the mattress. There is an over-turned photograph sitting on the frame. Moon picks it up with quivering hands. She turns it over to reveal that it's torn right though the middle.

It must mean that somebody has the other part.

The picture is of a man smiling like there's no tomorrow. What surprises Moon is that this man whoever he is, looks exactly like the older male version of her. It's dated as sixteen years ago. She quickly calculates that this person can be around nineteen or twenty years old. So, this person would be along their late thirties, about thirty six or thirty seven. In comparison to her father, this person would be one or two years older than him. So, her father would have known this person. Obviously, why would he have an anonymous picture under his bed?

But, this man. He has the same light brown hair, crinkled eyes and naturally tanned skin as her. It makes her mouth run dry and her breath speed up. Leaving out the fact that Moon had a round face and higher cheekbones, when this man has blue eyes, a close shade to her grey ones. They were a splitting image of each other. They would probably look like fraternal twins if they were the same age.

Why would he hide it? Why is it ripped in half? Who has the other half? The man seems to have one of his arms around another, but that's where the rip was. Moon badly wants to know where the other part is. All this thinking is giving her a headache.

She understands one thing clearly. The man is related to her and her father in some way. This topic was not brought up once in his thirteen years of existence. But the sudden introduction to the light is leaving her thirsty for answers. Harry never allowed it to be talked about briefly, let alone discuss about it. It seems like all her questions were answered with one sentence.

She's related to this Louis in some way or the other.

\---

Now, Moon honestly didn't know what to do. Yes, she's asked for redemption from school for a gulp of fresh air at home. The essays, home-works, nagging teachers were another weight on her shoulders. But, she didn't ask boredom as an awful substitute. Clearly, she didn't mind opening up a textbook and reading it. She'd reread all the novels in her mini library, squealing over the romance and thinking over the mystery, and her father wouldn't take her to the nearest Barnes and Nobles till another week because recently, he absorbed himself in his work. So much, that he'd forgotten that she was home.

  But, like the good daughter she is, she looks right past it.

  And, so she's found sitting on her bed in the late afternoon, flipping through the pages of her Year Seven science textbook. She sighs as she sees the familiar words -too familiar, she's seen them all year long, after all. But her fingers constrict when they come to a particular chapter.

REPRODUCTION IN ANIMALS, it says in large letters, up front of the page.

She thinks back to all the biology classes last year when all her classmates scrunched up their faces and paled. They learnt the basic birds and bees and it was more than embarrassing when the teacher showed them educational videos on the menstrual cycle and puberty and bodily changes. The boys vowed off girls for a month after seeing it all, because of the blood and so. She shudders as she remembers it all. She turns page by page, stopping on the detailed diagram of a sperm. When she first saw it on video, she thought it was a tadpole. The picture of a dozen of them swimming towards a large white ball of light was still etched into her mind's eye. All her friends were mortified at the thought of their parents doing certain activities to conceive them (sex education was terrible and mandatory). But, somehow, it didn't intrigue her.

What she pondered upon was her mother. She had one, that's for sure. But, she wasn't her mother. Or at least, she wasn't told of her as mother, but rather a guardian. Moon didn't understand at all. She remembers a blurry stranger lifting her into her arms and kissing her on the cheek, but she couldn't fathom the face.

She was positive that her father played for his own team because sometimes, he'd ogle men when he thought she wasn't looking, like he'd been deprived of it. And sometimes, she'd tease him with a cute waiter they saw when they went out. Having a mother -or rather, a _wife_ to Harry- seemed an unlikely thought. Yet, it did feel like it was true.

Maybe it was accidental, she thinks. She's learnt about unprotected sex that often lead unwanted pregnancies, but her father didn't seem like the type. He was always tip-top on everything and he was a perfectionist. He wasn't someone who'd impregnate just like that, being a former pop star and having paps at his tail most of the time.

She never did understand her father most of the time. He switched the TV off when anything afflicted with _One Direction_ came up, and she couldn't check it at the hostel because the common telly there had only a few channels and the internet there only allowed student-friendly websites. Now, when she had the privilege, she couldn't bring herself to do it. On one side, she felt like she was betraying her father, on the other hand, she wanted it to be a mystery she could unravel. Either way, she knew she didn't know Harry as well as she thought she did.

That thought made her cry.

"Calm down, Moonie," she told herself as she blinked back tears. "I know that you can be dramatic, but don't unleash yourself right now. It'd be a waste considering there's no one here."

"Moonie, are you on the phone?" Harry calls from downstairs, which meant he was home earlier than usual. "Who are you talking to?"

She didn't realise that she'd said it quite out loud. "No one, Pappa, just to myself!" She hears her father mutter something, but she goes back to what she's been doing. Connecting the dots, that is.

So, she has a father present with her. Who refuses to date anyone because he liked being single. She noticed how he looked longingly at the pillow beside him. Even when Moonie asked for a new mother when she was younger, he went on a couple of dates just for the show of it, and convinced her that the woman was sinister and was trying to break them apart. That's how she grew up. Having the irrational fear, that a new mummy or a daddy might take her Pappa away from her. But she's realised it was all crap by the time she was old enough to understand that her father's status would eternally be single.

Back to her mum. She had one for sure, because how would she exist? She's not adopted either, since there's a always a picture of Harry in scrubs, crying while holding her- on his phone. Her mum wasn't anywhere though. Whenever she brought it up, he refused to talk about her and stayed glum for the rest of the day. Her father was gay, of course, but she knew he loved her mother dearly.

The question was, how did she miss her mother? How did she vanish? Did she leave them? Perhaps, that's why her father always got sad over the topic of her. He was quite young when he had Moon- around twenty two and her mother couldn't have been older than that. Maybe she'd call one day and ask about the daughter she left behind. Somehow, Moon didn't find herself to be angry at her mother's illogical actions.

There had to be some sign of her left in the house. Her Pappa wouldn't erase everything just because she was gone. He was a good man. Maybe, Louis was her brother. Suddenly, she's pushed into a wild fantastical story where her father would have fallen in love with her mother's brother. But, it's revolting. That dramatic crap only happens in movies.

A thought strikes her, if she can't have the internet accessibility to finding her mother, she could always look at old fashioned albums, the ones that her father keeps in the attics for her to not touch. She knew he used to sit there, legs crossed with a mug of imported Earl Grey tea in a hand and flip though them with a fond, somewhat rueful look. She's spotted him once or twice. He doesn't like her going up there, and with years, she's suppressed the urge up until now. She scurries upstairs and pulls down the ladder attached to the trapdoor on the ceiling. As quietly as possible, she climbs up and pulls the door back.

The attic is untouched as always. She sneezes softly from the dust, but weaves through the various cardboard boxes scattered in her way. Thankfully, Harry's labelled them all in a thick marker, the light dribbling from the tiny window giving her enough sight. One says MOONIE'S CLOTHES and another VINYL RECORDS. Her eyes land on the one that she needs. MEMORIES, it says. She stumbles onto her knees, cringing at the though of dust bunnies that are probably going to come out of their hiding places upon her arrival. When she flips the light lids of the box, the first large book to meet her is _Moon_ is neat calligraphic script. Under it, the text of _One Direction_ peeked, but she was curious enough about the first one. 

She opens it from the end, watching her age go reverse. From the time of a toddler to that of a new born. In some pictures, there are pale feminine hands of a nobody holding her up. They're not there in the end, but in the beginning. She stops at the picture she's seen so many times, the one of her father in the hospital holding her- who'd been born just a few minutes prior. Below is the picture of a blonde woman lying tired on a hospital bed.

She gulps audibly. That's for sure her mother.

Moon flips to the front, finding a picture of her father's arms around her mother, identical smiles. She's beautiful, and Moon doesn't know her name. And they didn't have time together, what a shame. She's beautiful though. A full grin, white blonde hair and grey eyes. She doesn't look much like her except the eyes and cheekbones, but she feel a weight drop her heart into her stomach when she recognises her mother. It's like the shiver running down her spine, the realisation. The blurry faced person is suddenly clear in her memory.  

"Moonie!" A voice from below hollers. Her blood runs cold. Her fingers pause on turning a page and drops them completely. Her heart rabbits in her chest as she stuffs back the album in it's box and moves to collapses near the box that says MOONIE'S CLOTHES.

The trapdoor opens from below and the ladder slides out of her vision. In a jiffy, her father is coming up, eyeing her quizzically. "What are you doing up here, pumpkin?"

"Nothing, Pappa," her voice is hoarse from underuse and the earlier epiphany. "I was just clearing out my old textbooks and clothes. It'd be good to give them away, right?"

Harry grins at her, lips pulled to either sides of his face. "That's a wonderful idea, Moonie!" And like the whirlwind he is, he's gone.

Once she hears his footsteps stop echoing, she promptly bursts into tears. 

\---

A circle has no end, Harry has just noticed that. The circle of life in general doesn't have an end either. It's a boomerang. Whatever goes out must come back again. Whatever that whatever may be, it will come back. By whatever, he actually means memories.

Harry always thought that moving on was pretty hard. But, then, anything is possible with a little persistence. He's gotten over a lot of trauma and chaos and he hoped, he prayed that wouldn't want be stuck between a situation like that again. But then, what he took from Louis hit him back in the face in the form of Moon. He feels ashamed like he never has before. It didn't hit him all those years ago and it does. Moon is a close as being far from him, with her imploring self. She'll find out soon and never come back to him. Last time's hell was enough for him know the Devil. Sometimes, he just wants to go back in time and reverse the process of even going to the X-Factor. But, then, he wouldn't have met the only love of his life. Though the whole thing was heart-breaking, it feels it was worth it.

Louis -he flinches every time someone mentions him- had been that perfect being that he's waited for so long. But, at the same time he was not so perfect. He rolled on top of Harry in the middle of the night, had his tea without even a dash of sugar, got very lazy about doing laundry and was the best troublemaker. But, Harry saw him as perfect.

It was never allowed, their relationship. Yes, many of their own people supported them, but not all. Considering that 'you shouldn't mix work and relationships', or any other nonsense, it wasn't permitted. They had ignored the first few years, giving Louis a girlfriend, which was nonsensical, because many didn't believe it.

Later, it got hard. So hard. They were forced to stay on the opposite sides of the room, sometimes not even mingle at all, which made it oh-so-obvious. He came to be known as the douchebag. But, what else could he do, when he had so much of pent up frustration to vent? He couldn't expose it on Harry, who was facing the same.

Secrets. That's was the very content of their being.

They let out, though. But, through body markings, song lyrics and cigarettes. Every tattoo on their body represented their love, every marking symbolized their un-told story. Only they knew how many songs they had written for each other, line after line. Each word brimmed with the love that they weren't allowed to express.

Everyone bends far enough until they break. They bent quite far, very far to be brought back up again. Because not everyone can be firm in spirit, it will go down at one time. Louis and Harry fought, they fought against the world. But, they managed not to give up.

Wrong.

There will come a time where everything will demolish. There will come a period where everything will disappear. There will come a spell where everything will end.

He decided it was a little too early. Late in his twenty-first year, he had resolved to pull himself together. But, it turned out to one of the worst choice he'd made. He told Harry that he could no longer do it.

Fighting all this time and he gave up, just like that? Writing all those songs about making it though? That was the level of crazy he was in, the amount of madness their management injected into their veins. So, he walked away with a tight face, ignoring Louis's wrecking sobs behind him.

And from then, he had remorse and anguish as his bedtime prayers. He waited so long, so long for Louis to come back. But, it was the last straw for the latter as well. He was the one to walk out, but still hope that Louis would stop him. But, Louis didn't, because he was weak too. Just like Harry.

He knows that Harry knows that important yet, fragile thing in his life had been broken, and there seemed to be no way to fix it. Their world had been shattered to pieces, bringing them as well into it. The concealed poison had escaped and infected everything they had to love.

Liam, Niall and Zayn could do nothing but watch. Even if they wanted to do something, they were tied up. There was no more unadulterated joy or cheery freedom to present to them, to heal them with. Along with them, a part of many others died. It seemed like there was nothing at all to repair the broken hearts of the most wonderful star-crossed lovers.

The next six months was the worst in Harry life. He woke up lifeless and went to bed lifeless. They didn't face each other on stage, or anywhere for that matter. Harry moved out of their flat, despite Louis's silent cries. It wasn't their ego, maybe just their fear. Should never love anybody so much, he thought to himself that day, not more than myself. It's just slow beautiful poison.

They didn't know what would fix this back together. It wasn't where Humpty Dumpty fell off the wall, this was life. He could feel the tearing of the bind, and there was no stopping it. They were too scared to even look at each other. But, Harry did the impossible. He became happy again.

He was still twenty one -coping with heartbreak like it was a duty- when he told Niall that he wanted to be a father. Niall, of course, was appalled at the idea. He shoved Harry away and called him a moron, a selfish jerk and many other endearing names. But, it took two weeks for them to get talking again, Niall finally understood why. So, he did end up helping, ignoring the consequences that would later kill him.

It was an year after their horrifying break-up that Harry ended up becoming a father. He had cried for the first time out of happiness when he heard that ear-piercing scream from the baby in the hospital. Moon gave him a new reason to live, a choice to smile. He wasn't always that glum-faced man anymore. His daughter, gave him the happiness he had been starving for. Everything had a better view now. It was easier.

But, keeping it from the others, it was a tedious job. He gave up the new contract for their band once the original one was over. They still had so much of name and fame, they could go on. But they didn't. Their band was given up upon when he was twenty four, a two year old in his arms.

Louis had deadpanned a 'no' to the new contract immediately, and Harry knew exactly why. They'd only come back three years ago after their hiatus, but it felt long enough. He remembers the way Louis glanced at him with rueful eyes before walking out of the meeting room as a free man. His own band mates wanted a life of theirs to settle into. For his daughter, of course. Moon needed a stable home, school and a dad everyday. But, when everyone (except for Louis) found out about Moon, they flipped.

He couldn't deny it whatsoever, Moon did look like Louis in most of ways. After all, she was a piece of Louis. Harry found it content to have a miniature Louis with him when he had scrambled up his relationship with the actual one.

Pictures flash through his head. Cambria, Zayn, Liam, Niall. Mostly, _Louis_. He's going to know now, he's going to know everything. In fact, the boys had completely lost it when they found out. The boys being, Liam and Zayn- angst couple of the century. Harry closes his eyes and reminisces. That's all his does. That's all he's bound to do, when it's a part of him.

 

_Harry impatiently tapped his foot while the sound of ringing reverberated in his ear. He wedged his phone between his cheek and shoulder as he sieved out applesauce and its juice, waiting for the person on the other line to pick up._

_The sound of lifting the phone relieved him. "Liam?"_

_The latter replied. "You're coming to pick me up, Harry."_

_"Yeah, well, are you done?"_

_"Yes. I'm at the studios and I can wait for a while, might pick up a coffee or something. Louis just left," Liam explained and quickly bit his tongue. "Sorry. When are you coming?"_

_"In fifteen," Harry said as he seals a lid over a Tupperware box and makes his wave towards Moonie. She was babbling to herself, pounding her chubby fists onto the couch she's sitting wide legged on. "See you, there?"_

_"Sure."_

_Harry slid his phone into his pocket and cooed at his daughter as she made grabby hands at him, drooling from her toothless grin. "What's little Moonie doing?" He asked rhetorically, pulling her close and blowing a raspberry into her neck. She giggled shrilly and latched her fingers on his hair. He huffed out a laugh, rocking her back and forth while shouldering a baby bag._

_"Pappa, down," she fidgeted in his arms till he set her on the floor. She tripped her way to the end of the other couch and smiling triumphantly. "Thanks you."_

_"You're welcome, sweets," he said before picking her up again and ignoring as she thrashed in his arms, laughing wildly. When they got into the lift, she fought to press the basement button and cheered for herself. It made him sad to think about the fact that Bria wasn't there to see it all. She would have loved their little family as she always did._

_When he was away being a pop-star, nobody knew that little Moonie was his daughter. Cambria took care of her and Harry found it nothing but tedious when he had to handle everything by himself. Taking short flights to just come and kiss her on the cheek, or let his mother's or sister's glare burn him down when he went to drop Moon off. He's always wanted a child, and it was harder than he thought it would be. Still, he'd give up anything for her._

_Right now, that's what he was doing. He was giving up his dignity to his friends._

_The lift stopped with a chime and it's door revealed the basement, into which Moon waddles out and he had to scamper out to catch up with her. Recently, she had learnt how to run and used every opportunity to practice and it tired Harry out, and he felt a bit ashamed that he couldn't keep up with a two year old. But, with luck, he scooped her into his arms and sauntered towards a BMW with tinted windows. He buckled her into her car seat and in the backs the vehicle out whilst peering at his daughter through the rear-view mirror._

_As soon as they came up from the basement, a sleek car with Harry's security followed them. He told himself not to worry too much, calming himself with the sound of Moon's meaningless self talk. She had sharp grey eyes, a button nose and she was a chubby mess all the time. He didn't want her to become a woman, but he knew time would get him back for that comment._

_He waved his hand to the security at the recording studio once they arrived. He was let in without hesitance. Liam and Louis co-owned a record label, that they'd started recently due to the overbearing news that they decided to end One Direction in a few months. It wasn't as bad as they thought it would be, as they wanted to live a settled life after so much flourish._

_'I'm here,' he texted Liam. Then, he sent a message to Niall. 'I'm at the studio, coming to yours in a few. be ready.'_

_A minute later, Liam was jogging towards the car with a tiny smile lighting his face. He opened the passenger door next to him and slid in with a relieving sigh. "Alright. We're going to mine, right?"_

_"Yup."_

_Harry reignited his car, gliding to the gates again. "Zayn's home, isn't he?"_

_"Yeah, came around two days ago," Liam explained with a fond smile that left him a little too bitter._

_"Perfect."_

_"First of all, why did you want to meet up with-" He got cut off by a large gurgle coming from the back seat, which made him jump and almost hit his head to the roof of the car. He flipped behind, scrutinising Moon vigorously. "Whoa! Who's this?"_

_"You'll find out soon enough," Harry answered vaguely, before swerving the car to the street where Niall lived. "I'll tell you. Stop looking at her like she's going to eat you, she's harmless."_

_They halted in front of Niall's place. A person with a large hood over his head ducked and reached the back seat before he plopped inside. The blonde flipped off his hood with a large smile and shut the door. He patted Liam's shoulder in greeting before chirping out a 'hi harry!'_

_That was until he saw Moon._

_"Moonie!" he squealed immediately, surging forward to bury her in kisses while she kept reaching for his hair and let out her precious giggles. "Look at her, she's grown so much! This little bugger was half my forearm's length when I last saw her!"_

_"Ni! Ni!" Moon gasped ardently. "Uncle Ni!"_

_"I know, she's getting way too big," Harry admitted wistfully. "Before you know it, she'll be bringing a boy or girl home."_

_Niall hummed in response, letting his goddaughter wrap her fist around his forefinger. "She looks only a bit like her mother." He matched eyes with Harry in the mirror and tried not to fall prey to a frown. But, he failed._

_"Who's her mother?"_

_Niall must've forgotten momentarily that Liam was present with them, as did Harry._

_The blonde man widened his eyes. "Harry, you brought her," he said like it wasn't the most blatant thing. But, behind those words were conversations that went till depths._

_"I did," he deadpanned, hoping that Niall could understand._

_The rest of the drive is quiet, since it was only ten minutes at their current speed. They scampered past the grand entrance into the golden lightening of the apartment that makes Moon squint her eyes and bury herself further in Niall's arms. Just like the overprotective uncle he was, Niall wrapped his arms tightly around her._

_When they get off the lift to the sixth floor, the door was right before them. Liam pulled out a bunch of keys from his coat pocket and tried unlocked the door with an unsteady hand. But, Zayn must've heard the sound of it since he swung open the door from inside himself._

_He kissed Liam on the cheek, then proceeding to give Harry a warm one-armed hug. "How you been holding up, Haz?" He asked softly._

_"Alright, as always," Harry managed to muster up a convincing smile. "Heard your recent single, mate. It's brilliant!"_

_"I know, right," Liam exclaimed, as he shrugged off his coat and watched the exchange with weary eyes. Since Zayn left the band, they had been a rift between all of them. Niall and Louis stopped talking to him altogether, and Harry did as well, wanting to take his boyfriend's side. It was only a few months ago that Louis and Zayn called truce, and all walls fell down. Liam and Zayn made it work from the beginning, and here they were, already obtaining the fruit of their hardships._

_In defiance of the fact that Zayn left, both of them tried and they were going strong. Harry was envious when he thought of it. He felt like a refuge of love, which was wrong. They were his friends, he should be happy for them. But, of course, he wasn't going to express so._

_Zayn clapped Niall on the back, squinting at the child latched to his side. "Who's this little ankle biter, then?"_

_Liam shrugged. "Harry brought her along. You think he's deciding to take up babysitting after the band breaks up?"_

_Harry wordlessly stretched his arms out to Moon, who easily parts from Niall to come to his arms. "Why don't you all sit down," he said quietly, exchanging a glance with Niall who was being quite supportive. Zayn and Liam have a conversation with their eyes, nonetheless follow each other to sit down. They looked up at him expectantly, then at Niall who was bad at pretending he was surprised._

_"Is there something you know that we don't know?" Zayn asked Niall._

_"N-No."_

_Harry cleared his throat, brushing his cheek to Moon. "Say, if I like said, that this little baby was my daughter, what would you say?"_

_Liam widened his eyes. "You've adopted her? Harry, that's amazing! You'll busy and all."_

_Zayn however, would have caught the drift. "I don't think he's adopted her, Li. Or he'd come bursting with news before it was even finalised." He massaged his beard thoughtfully. "Daughter, you say? Because, Styles, the resemblance is rather uncanny," he drawled sarcastically. "Now tell us, who is she? A cousin? Gemma's? Anne's?"_

_Harry looked almost scandalised, until Moon cried out a "Pappa!" and pulled his hair again, unceremoniously._

_"You're not joking?!"_

_"He isn't," Niall supplied, not so helpfully._

_"She really is my daughter. I wouldn't joke about this," Harry replied resignedly, bracing himself for the words that would come like punches._

_Liam's definitely angry. "I swear, Harry. If this is another pregnancy scandal like the 2016 one, then-"_

_"I didn't get anyone pregnant, Liam!" Harry proclaimed, passing his daughter to her godfather. "I wouldn't do that and I know my limits. What do you take me for?!"_

_"Then, what the bloody hell is going on?!"_

_"Don't curse in front of the child," Niall chided, cupping his hands over her ears._

_"How did Niall know before?" Zayn asked, too smoothly. Like he was trying to grasp all the facts before deciding to scream or not at him. Which was a bit fair, he supposed. It was going to end bad, of course. He's standing naked, stripped of his secrets in front of the friend's he's known for more than half a decade. "How did he know and not us?"_

_"Because she wouldn't be here if not for Niall," he explained patiently._

_"She's yours, then?" Liam asked the mentioned person, speaking before Niall could deny anything. "Who's the mother?"_

_"Her mother passed away," Harry answered quickly and quietly, sneaking a glimpse of Niall, who's face had fallen. "It's been a rough few months for us. I've been handling her on my own. Niall helps too, but you know. A mother is a mother."_

_They were all quiet for a while after that, having met with the bomb. Until Zayn spoke up. "Is it just me or does she look exactly like-"_

_"Yeah," Harry hurriedly agreed. "That's because she's his daughter too."_

_It was Liam again. "What do you mean? If you're her father and she had- has a mother, how is Louis the father too?"_

_Harry sighed to himself, proceeding to sit across them and began telling them a story that he knew like the guilt on his tongue. Neither of them were happy after that. They had identical frowning faces. "I chose to go to Niall. Liam, you would never even think of helping me and Zayn, you wouldn't understand what was in my head because you hadn't been there," he ended the story on a heavier note._

_"So, this where you sneaked off all the time. To visit her," Liam mused, saying first thing after staying quiet for so long. The shock lined his voice distinguishingly. "Is she two?"_

_Harry nodded solemnly. "Born in 2016. During babygate."_

_"So, all that time Louis was acting like he became a father, he actually was-"_

_"Why did you tell me this, Harry?" Zayn said fiercely, his jaw locking as his eyes were set ablaze. "What do you want me to do with knowing this? Risk my friendship with Louis? Again?"_

_Harry gave him an incredulous look. "I-I. Look, you're my friend, at some point, you were my best friend. If I had to tell anyone, I'd tell you lads."_

_"You know what will happen when Louis finds out, don't you?" He ventured. "The thought of forgiving you will completely be erased from his head and he's going to go back to pushing me away as well. I don't think I'm ready for that again. Neither are you."_

_"It's a bit too late for that, innit?" Harry looked down at his feet. "It's a baby and I had already set my mind on it and look now; I can't go back in time. I'm sorry, I was so irresponsible. But, I was blinded. I think I still am. " He drew in a deep breath and told himself not to cry. "I know this is wrong and I know I should've thought a bit logically about it. But, it wasn't something in my eureka moment. I had so much time to hate myself and to even conjure up this wild thought of mine. I royally screwed things up and it was my way of compensation. Nothing can be done. I love her and I loved her before she was born. Nothing's going to change that. I'll regret anything in the world, but I'll never regret her. She's. She's the best thing that happened to me when I was amongst the worst."_

_He could hear Liam whispering something to his boyfriend before turned to Harry. "What's her name, Haz?"_

_Harry swallowed the bile in his throat. "Moon."_

_"Moon," Liam repeated carefully. "Can I hold her?"_

_Harry nodded like his head might roll off his neck, croaking. "Yes, 'course."_

_Niall set her down and she waddled, her diaper scrunching with each step and tripped towards Harry. "Pappa?" She raised her tiny little eyebrows at him, palms covering his cheeks and she pouted._

_"I'm fine, pumpkin. You want to meet someone new?" Harry chuckled lowly, pride rising in his chest._

_She took some time to think of the correct words. "Yes. Yes. Who it is?"_

_He turned her around slowly, facing the couple. "That's Uncle Liam and that's Uncle Zayn," he whispered to her, pointing to the respective people._

_Moon looked conflicted. "Unca Zine. Unca Leeyum." She said, then pointed to the man she was previously. "Unca Ni." She looked back at her dad with curious eyes. "Who's they?"_

_"My friends, sweets. The ones Pappa sings with."_

_"One Dilection!" She bursts._

_"Yes. Liam sings with me like Ni and Zayn sings too, he's Liam's..." He explains slowly, trailing off._

_"Zine is Leeyum's Bria? Like yours?"_

_"No, Moonie." He said quickly, giving up on explaining what a boyfriend is. Bria was Harry's best friend. But nothing more than that. "Why don't you go say hi to Liam?"_

_Moon tentatively walked towards Liam and fell into his open arms. He boosted her up into his lap. "Hi Moonie," he said softly, stroking a finger over her milky cheek. "Zayn, look at her. She's adorable."_

_Zayn paused, but hesitantly glanced up and after a moment, stretched his arms out to her and she came easily, stomping over his thighs. She latched immediately onto his hair, but instead of the customary pulling, she ran her fingers through it and revelled. She poked Zayn on his nose piercing. "So pretty. What's this?"_

_He peered at her father, looking visibly relaxed. "It's jewellery, love. You can have one when you grow up." Harry could see him warming up to her, but not to him. All he knew was that only time would help Zayn in forgiving him and he was willing to wait._

\---

Moon runs her fingers across the glittering surface of her flickerboard, contemplating whether to go out in the hot weather or to rot in the stifling house. She assumes that the former option is better, since she can compensate with a mug of lemonade she can prepare make later on.

She quickly produces her phone and thumbs through the contacts before stopping before her father's. She holds it up and hovers in the air as she sends him a video message. "Pappa, I'm going to the end of the neighbourhood's to Jesse's, okay? Don't worry if I don't get back when you're home. I might have my early dinner there."

Without invitation, she sets off with her flickerboard tucked under her arm. She stomps through the heat, moving fast before the sun could get to her. She stops before the familiar house by the dead end before mustering up the best smile she's ever given and proceeding to speak by the intercom.

She mumbles her name to the customary voice when she rings the doorbell and skips into the house when the door automatically swings open at the granted permission. She smiles as she approaches the kitchen.

"Mrs. McAllister, how are you?" She says cheerfully before joining the kitchen island and leaning against.

"Moon, _cariño_ ," The woman says in sharp Mexican accent, as she set down the knife that was dicing tomatoes aside. Her warm brown eyes turn softer than they already were "I'm wonderful. How's the summer treating you?"

 "Pretty hard, actually. It's hotter than last summer," she supplies easily. "I get bored so much because I don't have much company except for my dad, you know. And your idiot of a son never thinks about calling me over."

 "You have a standing invitation, _darrrling_. You can come over whenever, didn't I tell you that?" She laughs gracefully. "He's in the backyard. You can go out and meet him."

Following the instructions, Moon runs out of the house to the back. Across the green lawn, there's a tiny shed towards the corner near the fence. She grins to herself as she strides towards it. After knocking on the wooden door, the small intercom on it scans her.

"Mama! I told you I'm busy! I'll take an hour more." Jesse calls from the inside. He doesn't sound Mexican like his mom, having a father who was brought up in Minnesota. The sound of his voice feels a bit like coming home. Like fresh mown grass or concentrated grape wine. Like the dreams she has when she doesn't know what happened, but they still leave her with a feeling of serenity when she wakes up. Like the old pair of shoes under your bed that you find after years.

She barges in anyways, standing against the doorway with her arms crossed. Not in a guarded manner, but more of an expectant one. "But, I'm sure you can make a little time for me."

Jesse is bent over a table that's scattered of scrap pieces of synthetic and synthetic shavings around a solid block of it. He glances up at her voice, saw mid air as he breaks out into an unstoppable grin, while rolling his eyes. "Oh, it's just you."

"What do you mean, it's just me? I am the light of your life! I ought to get a more enthusiastic greeting than that. You can do better, sweetheart."

"Oh, shut up."

She makes her way towards him, scanning the table of it's contents. He smells like musk and cocoa butter when she squeezes in a hug that he doesn't reciprocate. She glances back at the table. "What are you working on today?"

 He shrugs, wiping away the sweat that lined her upper lip. "Nothing. I'm trying to make a fixture to the birdbath. You remember that one I made from scratch, right? Out of porcelain?" She nods. "Yeah, that. Speaking of birdbaths, I made you the birdhouse that you asked for last time." He snakes an arm around her shoulders and guides her out of the shed.

 Twenty minutes, they're seated across each other on the too-comfortable couch in Jesse's basement, a large flat screen in front of them playing an abandoned movie. Between them is an emptying bowl of popcorn that Mrs McAllister had thrust into their arms suspiciously and cat-called with narrow eyes. They got that a lot, being best friends. Moon wondered if she would ever have the comfort of calling it something more than that.

Jesse continues to gap at her. "You're telling me that you found your mother."

Moon shrugs lackadaisically. "Yeah. Well...I found out about her. She's gone somewhere, I just can't figure out where she'd have vanished."

"Are you sure she's your mom?"

"We have the same eyes," Moon explains patiently. "There's a picture of her when she was pregnant with my dad." She whips out her phone, punching a few things on the screen before the picture project in a holographic display from the flat of the screen. There's a wavering image of the picture she snuck a photo; Harry's arms around her mother. "Here's a picture though."

"You're right," Jesse says slowly. "You do have the same eyes." He still looked conflicted though. "I don't know what you want me to do. Or what you want me to say."

Moon rolls her eyes. "You're older than me, of course you should have something to say."

He peered at her sceptically. "I'm only one year older than you."

"Fine, then," she huffs in return. "If you think it's easier for you to come up with something; I think I have another dad."

"Yes. That totally did not complicate things further."

"Oh shut up. Just listen to what I have to say, okay?" Moon waits till she receives a nod of acceptance. She peruses through her phone again and Louis' picture is now displayed. "This man, I think is my father too. Plus, my dad slipped a few days ago. He called me 'Louis' which I'm guessing is this man's name."

Jesse widens his eyes as his jaw falls open. "Holy-" he cuts himself off. "You look so alike. Like, he's your older brother or something. There might be a chance that what you're saying is true." He frowns at her. "What have you gotten yourself into, Moon?"

"I don't know, J. But, I have to find a way out," she says determinedly. "I was hoping you'd help things shed more light."

"Right," he grabs the phone from her hand. He separates the holographs from the photo gallery into the air so that they can browse over them properly. The image of Louis and another recent image of Harry are flying in front of them. "So, this man -Louis- looks exactly like you. He could be your father. Your dad -Mr Styles- is your father from the beginning. One has blue eyes and the other has green eyes. You have grey eyes. Which means, neither of them are your mother."

Moon skims over at him with horrified eyes. "Do you have the slightest sense of what you're talking?"

He freezes, an apologetic smile taking his features. "Sorry, I guess I am a bit stupid sometimes." He proceeds before she can bubble out a laugh. "You already have a supposed mother, I forgot. Look, I know this is rude, but is your dad into men or women?"

"I think he's into both. I caught him ogling both at some point."

Jesse pulls out another holograph from the phone into the air next to Harry's picture; the one of her mum. "So, we have the conclusion that your dad was involved with either Louis or your mom. It doesn't really solve anything though."

"But, this Louis could be anyone, right? Doesn't have to be my father."

"He doesn't," Jesse accepts. "But, seeing how you are a splitting image of him, we'll assume so. Also, if it was so, then this person has to be around your father's age right now. If he were alive."

Moon pinches her lips together. "You're saying there isn't much of a chance that he could be alive?"

"We don't know for sure. We don't know anything, actually. Except for the fact that he could also be your father. But, you can' prove anything now. Tell me, is this guy American? Probably why your father settled down here. Because if this guy was involved with Mr Styles, then, if he were dead or not, staying in California would a definite option for your father."

"No, no," She denies quickly. "I'm too sure that he's British. My entire family is and all my father's mates are. I have no idea why we even live here, considering we don't have anyone here. Like, it's a town. If at least, It was smack down in the middle of LA, it would make sense." She pauses thoughtfully. "My dad used to have a house up in Beverly Hills, but he sold it off for some peace and quiet here. Other than that, I think everyone he knows -who're not famous- are British. They all ooze British."

"I can see that," he points out and makes an impersonation of what he called her 'semi British accent'.

She ignores him, though. "What do you think I should do now?"

He sighs. "You're going to have to climb into the lion's mouth. Which means, talk to your father."

\---

By the time, Moon collected her flickerboard and the birdhouse and returned home, it was barely evening. She didn't want to eat lunch, seeing that it would end up down the toilet no matter how less the queasiness got. She'd decided to kip in for a while once she got home, but her father's shoes were by the door when she got in. It didn't help with her nerves at all.

She knocks on the open doors of his office, Harry is scrutinising his computer and at the sound, peers up at her through his glasses, pulling out a gentle smile. "Hello, pumpkin. You're back early, had a good time? How's Jesse?"

 "He's fine," she mumbles, convoking the best smile she could. "He made that synthetic birdhouse that I told him to make last time. I kept it on the dining table."

 "We're hammer it into the backyard tree tomorrow, 'kay?" Harry begins to stack papers, ducking from her gaze. "I thought you'd have dinner there, so I didn't make anything. Do you want me to whip you up something?"

She wants to say that she isn't hungry, but she stops herself. "I was hoping I could try to make something."

Harry smiles warmly. "Go ahead."

So, Moon sets out to it; stripping the refrigerator of it's vegetables. She places mayonnaise and toothpicks to the side and begins to chop up tomatoes, carrots and beans. On the stove is a pot of boiling wild rice with a companion of kidney beans. While, that's getting prepared, she produces her phone and scrolls through the contacts until she gets to a particular one. She tucks her detachable earphones in her ears and connects them to her phone via Bluetooth. She often put them on, when her father was lecturing her; after all, they looked just like ear plugs.

"Uncle Ni," she breaths softly into the phone, hoping her father won't hear. "How are you doing?"

The reply comes back in minutes, his voice is scratchy but still fond. _"Good God, Moonie. It's like one AM here."_

"I'm sorry," she sends back quietly. "I thought you today. Thought I could talk to you."

_"It's quite alright, bud. Tell me, what's up?"_

She takes in a deep breath and proceeds to take out the raspberries in the freezer. "I was wondering if we could meet up?"

_"You want me to come to LA? Because I'm pretty okay with that. I've just come to Manchester a few days ago, but I suppose I could arrange to come there."_

She squeezes the fruit down the mouth of the juicer she was firmly holding. "Oh, no. You don't have to. I'll ask Pappa to send me to London. It's been a while I've seen Auntie Gemma and Grandmumma. So, it'll probably be easier for you to come to London, won't it?"

_"That's a good idea. You'll let me know when you're coming, aren't you?"_

Moon scoops the mushed raspberries into two martini glasses before adding a dollop of whip cream over it and pushes it into the refrigerator. "Sure, I'll do that. Now, get back to sleep, I'm sorry for disturbing you." She gets back an _'it's alright'_ and wordlessly stirs the rice and adds in the veggies.

A few minutes later, another voice message comes. Again, from Niall. _"Moonie, are you alright? You don't sound like yourself."_

She contemplates on telling him everything, but chooses to just hint him into it. "I haven't been myself for a few days, Niall. I feel like I don't have anyone to talk to. And...that's why I want to go visit Auntie Gemma. I wish I had a mother or another father sometimes."

He doesn't answer for a long time. But, when he does, it's placid. _"I wish you had a mother too."_

She doesn't reply, instead electing to let the stir fry cool and then, wrapping it in peels of lettuce before poking a toothpick through each of them for them to stay put. She doesn't know she's done too many until whatever in the pot is finished. She's so absorbed in her thoughts that she doesn't realise she's all done until her father knocks on the doorframe of the kitchen.

"Moon, that smells amazing," he gushes with a dimpled smile. "What did you make?"

"Nothing much," she mutters, not even bothering to smile. "Just lots of lettuce wraps and dessert."

"What's for dessert?"

She places the wraps neatly over each other in a large platter and brings out the chilling martini glasses. "Raspberry crush with whip cream," she says, pointing to the said item.

"Sounds delicious," he calls courteously from the dining area, shuffling out the plates and cutlery. "Finger food and all that. I've been craving dessert too."

It's extremely silent over dinner, almost deafeningly. Moon faces only her plate and doesn't look up once but she can feel her father's eyes on her the entire time. He asks her why she doesn't go for second helpings and she finds herself unable to answer. She doesn't really understand why her mood has slanted down since returning from Jesse's. She couldn't tell if it was nervousness, anger, remorse or even fear. Afterwards, she says a quiet goodnight and retires to her bedroom despite it being only eight PM. She blocks out the sound of Harry's telly shows with her moody playlist.

After a few minutes, she feels her bed dip. She quickly ducks to removes her earphones and relaxes when she sees her dad. "Pappa," she questions groggily.

Harry smiles sadly, moving to smooth back the hair falling on her forehead. "You know I love you, right?"

"I do," she sighs, avoiding his gaze.

"You never make dessert unless you're feeling out of it, Moonie. You hate making dessert," he points out in a velvety voice. "Now, tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she chokes out.

"If you did anything, I promise I won't be angry. You've been like this since you came back from Jesse's house," he remarks fiercely. "Did he do something? Something he was not supposed to? Like--without your permission? Tell me--"

"Oh gosh, no," she cuts across him hastily. "Nothing like that, Pappa. Jesse would be the last person to anything of that sort."

"Don't make me beg, love. Just get it off of your chest."

She shakes her head, feeling a reel of tears clouding against the rim of her eyes. "You won't want to listen."

"Of course, I'd listen! Who else will listen, if it's not for me?"

Moon shakes her head stubbornly.

"Tell me what's wrong, pumpkin, I don't like seeing you like this."

"You don't like seeing me at all," she mumbles lowly.

"What?"

Moon looks up at him with anguished eyes. "You clearly don't want to be around right now, Pappa."

Harry looks confused at being accused. "What? No! Whatever gave you that idea?!"

"You don't like looking at me anymore. You won't do it. It's like I remind of bad things. I'm sorry, I don't know what I did, though. You don't know how it feels like. It's so lonely for me. It's so _damn_ lonely for me. I have no one to talk to anymore. I have no one to share my feelings with. I'm stuck-- in these four walls with myself and it's-- horrible! I have no friends here, no one! You don't have anyone here either! The only friends I have are at school and here, it's not even like home. Home is like...London. Do you know when I go to Grandmumma's, I never get bored? Because she's there and she...understands. She understands. I don't have anyone here!" She pulls her knees to he chest and muffles a sob.

Harry is reticent for a few moments. His voice cracks when he starts to talk. "Moon, I didn't know you were feeling all this, kiddo. You should have told me straight out you were feeling that way. You just had to tell me--if I didn't understand, then, _make_ me understand. I didn't know you didn't like this place...I didn't know anything. I'm so sorry, so _so_ sorry. I didn't even know I was ignoring you, I'm a bloody idiot," he chuckles self deprecatingly, patting her on the back. "You know, Moonie, ever since you came back --you're right-- I haven't been myself. There's this constant loop in my head that-- that you're growing up way too fast! It's killing me, because-- because--"

"Because what, Pappa?" She raises her head and sniffles.

His eyes are glassy. "I feel like you're going to leave me," he whispers so inaudibly that she almost doesn't catch it.

Moon is shocked by the statement. "Why would I do such a thing?!"

"Because, you're clever! You're going to grow up, you're going to ask questions and you'll find out and-"

"Find out about what, Pappa?" She dares to ask, the adrenaline running with her heartbeat. "About how I had a mother? Or possibly a father?"

"What?" Harry is flustered to say the least.

"When I find out you're not my only parent? And that I have a mother?" Moon ventures to ask.

A myriad of emotions flash across her father's eyes, he backs away a bit, bewildered. "What?! Why would you suggest that?"

"I'm not suggesting, Pappa. I'm asking you because I only know half of it."

He continues to look scandalised, and she can't make out what is running through his head. Whether it was guilt or anger. "What?" He repeats as if he hadn't digested it yet.

"You heard me," she replies coldly.

"This is what this is about, then?"

"What else do you want it to be about? Louis?" Moon demands, now having stopped crying.

"I don't know! Anything but this...boys, or hormones or period pain-" He stops himself from advancing with the list. "Wait, what did you say?"

"You heard what I said," she answers, being anything but calm. "You have to tell me either about my mother or this mysterious Louis."

"How do you even know about Louis?" Harry mutters under his breath, but quickly composes himself. He stands up, hands shaking as he turns to leave and says in a trembling voice. "I want no part in this. You can wonder all you want."

When he's taken a step or two, she deadpans plucking the courage from inside. "Wait." It makes him stop. "You don't want to talk about it, but... I do."

Harry flips around swiftly and his eyes are blazing. "You follow what I say in this house, and I say we don't talk about this. Go to bed, we're never talking about this again."

Moon kicks her sheets away, jumping out of bed. "So, how many more years do you want me to believe that the stork dropped me at your doorstep? I've grown older, Pappa, and I know. I'm tired of not understanding."

"Well, then, listen to me, and listen to me good. I'm your parent. I was your mother and your father at the same time. And I always will be. Stop worrying, now," he tries to threaten, but sounds wet in the voice.

"Then, why is it affecting you so much? You could have simply said I had no mother at all. But, why are you flustered? As if I caught you red handed?" She asks rhetorically. "Because there is something. Something you're not telling me."

"Don't pull the psychology card here!" Harry bellows, almost rattling her bones. "There's nothing of that kind. I don't get why you're assuming things."

"Assuming things?" Moon sniggers. "Why shouldn't I when I look nothing like you? I know I wasn't adopted. There's that picture of you holding when I was just born. Then, I must have a mother too. It's impossible to not have one."

"How?" Harry gasps. "Why-- there's nothing to tell."

"Pappa, please." She says softly, "I just want to meet her. I want to know her. Just because I do doesn't mean I'll love you any less. I just-"

"YOUR MOTHER IS BLASTING DEAD," Harry shouts and the sound rocks them into silence.

Moon's heartbeat stops for a second. She can feel the dread crawling up her throat and her eyes are shining with renewed tears. Her mouth as gone dry and the coldness swirling in her stomach has turned into a sharp hot pain. She doesn't give herself time to dwell on it. Because, it explains almost everything, but not everything. "W-What?"

"She died when you were two years old," Harry explains, voice mellow. When he looks up, a tear has already escaped his eye and plopped on his cheek. "She was very beautiful. She was lovely and you got your love for food from her." He moves closer, pulling his phone out of his pocket before typing a passcode for a reserved gallery and darts to a picture of her mother. He held it up for her to see. "Her name was Cambria. Cambria Walters."

"Bria," she breathes out in recognition. Her name felt so familiar on Moon's tongue. Like a deja vu. Like her grandmother's salted caramel that made her want to go back, that made her want to moan in relief. "She wasn't married to you?"

"No, Moonie," Harry answers slowly, exhaustion seeping into his tone. "She was my friend."

"Then-"

"You don't have to know everything," Harry cuts across urgently. "You're not old enough for it. And you need a little more maturity to understand my decisions. I don't want you to storm off once you know everything. You can ask me now, you know. The cat's out of the basket anyway. But, I will only answer what is appropriate." Moon doesn't understand, but she opens her mouth to protest. He leads them both back to the bed and makes her sit down and takes a seat across her himself. "I've absolutely been dreading this day," he chuckles lowly. "Now, go ahead. Ask."

"Are you sure Bria is my mum?" She asks immediately.

"She most definitely is, seeing that she gave birth to you."

"But," she splutters. "I don't look much like her!"

"Unfortunately, you don't," her father frowns in response. "

"But, when I don't look like either of you much, then I must have another parent." She looks up, craze written in her eyes, like a soothing epiphany. "Louis is my other dad, right?"

Harry groans, but is just as shell-shocked. "I don't know where you got the idea of him being your father from. Louis-- he's nobody."

"He isn't nobody, Pappa."

"Moonie, you're not old enough to know it yet," he says warningly. "I'll tell you when the time comes."

"The time will never come," she mumbles to herself. "Does he know that I'm his daughter?"

Harry looks like he's given up convincing her that Louis is her father. Which probably meant, he was in the most difficult terms. "He doesn't, love," he says painfully. "Bria and I had you."

"Why would you have a baby with your friend?" She reprimands. "Or was it because Louis didn't want me?"

"He always wanted kids," Harry answers forlornly. "He just doesn't know about you. But, I am your father. Just because I don't look like you, doesn't mean I'm not. Do you want me to show your birth certificate?"

Moon nods. "I want to see it tomorrow. But, how is it possible that I have three parents?"

"Not time for that, Moonie."

She remains silent for a while, playing with a loose string separated from her sheets. "He didn't want me, didn't he? That's why he's not here. That's why you have me. If he was my dad and he was mine too, then he wouldn't had me with you. Or you could have gotten Bria pregnant." She doesn't glance up when Harry flinches. "So, that means he was your boyfriend?"

"He was," Harry accepted resignedly.

"Did it not turn out well?" She asks timidly.

Harry gulps, the wrinkles on his forehead more prominent. "It didn't," he says, almost inaudibly. But he collects himself like he always does. "None of this matters now, it won't make a difference. He doesn't know whether dead or alive, married or single. I don't want him to know."

"Do Zayn, Liam and Niall know about him?"

He nods easily. He doesn't tell her that he was part of the band. That's how he brought his daughter up; telling her that he had three colleagues instead of four. Though it wasn't supposed to be that way, he never wanted her to find out about Louis and the Great Heartache. But, children always listen even when they're not spoken to. "Yes, they do," he phrases intelligibly.

"And nobody else?" She asks, and her father hums in agreement. "I'm sorry, Pappa, but that's selfish. Not letting him know and all. When he finds out from someone else, he's going to burst. So, it rather be you. What could go wrong if he knew?"

"I don't care if it ends well, pumpkin," he says offhandedly. "I'm not telling him anything. You can't tell him either since you know nothing about him or where he lives, or if he has a family of his own that you're going to disturb when you tell him about yourself. I am selfish. Nobody will tell, though. No one will even suspect it."

"So, you're telling me you bribed everyone into not speaking of this?" Moon gaps at her father like he's spouted an extra head. She didn't understand where his rationality went, like a mad scientist's Eureka moment.

"I didn't bribe-"

 "If this is another version of Rumpelstiltskin, I don't like it," she says fiercely. "Whatever you're hiding, please keep it to yourself. You're right, I'm not strong enough to know it." She slides into the middle of the bed and slips under the covers and turns her back to him. "I'm sleepy, could you leave, please?"

  
Harry looks like he wants to protest, but he gets up and presses a tentative kiss to her exposed cheek. "Good night."

He goes to switch the light off, but she sits up on his elbow. "Oh, and Pappa?"

"Yeah?" He sounds hopeful.

"Please book a ticket to London, will you? I want to visit Auntie Gemma and Grandmumma," she says bitterly. "As soon as possible, if you could."

"Moon."

"Please do it, Pappa," she partially pleads. "I'd like to be any place but here." She lays her head down on the pillow and closes her eyes. The light is switched off and she doesn't have to remove the darkness to know that her father is smiling sadly. She knows he'll do anything for her. Practically, everyone pampered her. She was the first baby after all, and that was a tremendous advantage. She sighs and promises herself not to cry.

She fails to keep the word.


	2. Part Two

"Moon, think about it," pleads Harry, casting his daughter a desperate look. She didn't spare him a look even though. "I don't want you to leave just because you're angry with me."

  "No, Pappa, I'm not going because of that," she disagrees, contrary to what she was feeling. In fact, the anger seemed to grow like a hot white ball in her chest the more she thought about it. Only, she couldn't tell if it was on her father, or herself or the whole ruddy situation. It's been three days, and she refuses to "I need to get out of here. I'm sick of it."

 "Moonie," he begins again, weakness vetoing his voice. It's four in the blooming morning and both of them are sleepy with groggy voices, having stayed up the night before despite the travel plans. Things aren't the same between them is the thing.

 "I want to ask you something, will tell me the truth?" Moon finally fleets her eyes up at her father, lips pursing nervously as she swallows the words that want to come threateningly and hurtfully out of her mouth. He nods tentatively. She sighs before swivelling her gaze away. "This thing. This mess. Louis and you...and everything. Was it because of your band?"

 "What makes you think so?" Harry counterattacks with a question.

"I've asked Jesse to look up things for me and he's done some research and he said that show biz back then was a cursed boon. You didn't have much freedom and all. He also said that people who were- erg, into the same gender were, as he put it-- in a glass closet or were an open secret. I'm assuming that that bit could apply to you. And this Louis. If he couldn't handle you not being out." She pauses to catch Harry's reaction. He only mutters 'bloody Jesse' under his breath and shakes his head. "So, am I? That is, right?"

He doesn't answer till two beats. "Yes, you are. You're right. Did you want to get it out of me?"

"That wasn't my point, Pappa." She sighs exasperatedly. "What I ultimately wanted to ask is that-- I wouldn't be here without your band, right?"

Harry contemplates for a long moment. "You wouldn't."

"So, all this started from your band. Which means your band was an amazing experience for you, but also something that put you down."

Harry's jaw clenches. "Yes."

"So, all of you four --you and your band members-- faced struggles that were different, but were a pain nonetheless?" She continues to prod, gone past testing the waters. She was done testing the waters months ago. Now, all she's doing is demanding the answers. And if they're not being given to her, she's plucking them straight out of their grasp. That's apparently how the world works, because you receive nothing by request.

Her father flinches, but nods slowly. "That's correct, I guess."

"That's all I wanted to know."

As if on cue, the mundane voice announces the arrival of her flight. She realises she has a half eaten granola bar in her hand and pops it into her mouth before wiping her palms on her jeans. Her father stands up, pulls her and crushes her against his shoulder. "Promise you'll be alright."

"I will, Pappa," she breaths against his neck.

When he backs away, his eyes are a bit glassy and his lips are stretched into a frown. "Don't be angry at me, pumpkin. I hate it when you are."

She forces out a light laugh. "I'm not anymore." He doesn't look convinced, but still thrusts her passport with the airbus ticket tucked in it-- into her hand that's not holding up her luggage. "Now, don't forget to eat, okay? And take care of the bakery. Remember that you have to ship the wine--"

"I'll take care of all that," Harry cuts across softly. "You have fun and be safe, okay? Gemma will pick you up at the airport. Don't worry about me."

"I'll try not to," she quips. "Don't miss me too much."

Harry gives her a melancholy lopsided smile. "I'll try not to."

Without another word, she rushes towards the gates. She doesn't want to think of how her father must be feeling with her leaving without a proper goodbye. She can't help but think how heartless she is. But, a smiling lady takes her ticket and rips a piece out and hands it back to her before she can rethink her decision. "Welcome to Lufthansa Airlines," she says in an automatic voice and bids Moon a safe flight with a wonderful time. Now with the excess acid in her stomach, Moon seriously doubts her bites. She walks down a familiar corridor before clambering up the stairs to her aeroplane. People are already seated, making themselves home in their large seats and flipping through their magazines. Air hostesses are smiling plastically and pushing bags into the panels above the passengers' heads. When she finds her seat, it's the one next to one of a window. There's a man in front of her-- squinting as if he's planning her murder and she decides not to comment on his walrus moustache.

An air hostess takes her bag from her and tucks it away and asks her if she wants anything. Moon slumps in her seat and breaths out of relief when the hostess brings her two bottles of water. In her peripheral vision, a woman shucks her bag above her head, but she pays no heed. "Hey, do you want to sit next to the window?"

Moon looks up, to find her standing with her arms crossed, albeit not defensively. Her hip length hair falls over her shoulder like a brown curtain like it's meant to sit there. Her eyebrows is raised over shocking blue eyes, more concerned than scrutinising. She looks like she's in her early thirties --around her father's age, punctuating through the wrinkles on her forehead. She's prettier than the air hostess and Moon doesn't understand why she's so keen on observing the lady and can't put her finger on it.

"Huh?" She manages to get out intelligently.

  "I asked if you wanted to sit by the window. You look like you're going to pass out anytime soon." She says gently, high pitch-voiced and a mellow accent. "Watching the clouds helps. Is it your first time travelling by yourself?"

"Uh," Moon shifts to the left into the seat next to the window and allows the nice lady to take her place. She doesn't want to fall prey to awkward denials and force the woman to extend her kindness. "No, I often travel by myself."

"Then, what is it?" Lady pulls her cardigan closer to herself, crossing her legs despite her perfectly fitting pencil skirt. Her eyes are painted with residual peacock green eye-shadow. Moon decides that she's quite pretty and they're a possibility of her having a fit son.

"Complicated matters. There's nothing wrong with being scared sometimes, is there?"

"Of course not," she says, passively dismissively. "The plane's not going to blow up if you're having any sort of near death premonitions. Are you running away from home, or something?" The woman doesn't filter her words or even apologise for prying, but instead laughs it away. The latter decides she likes her.

Moon laughs nervously, uncomfortable from the hair standing at the nape of her neck. Technically, she is going to be breaking rules in the next few weeks. "I fought with my dad, like, really badly. And I haven't made it up to him. I also kind of took advantage of the fact that he loved me and practically threatened him into letting me on the flight to London to visit my aunt."

The woman laughs vibrantly. "That's not bad! I mean, you have to live up to the rebellious teenage years," she says casually. "I'm assuming you are one."

"I am," Moon answers with a nods. "How old are you?"

She wrinkles her nose. "That's quite straight forward of you."

"Well," the girl starts off. "If we're going to be airbus buddies for ten hours, I must know minimal information about you."

"Airbus buddies, huh? I like the sound of that," the former quips. "But, unfortunately, I don't like to reveal my age because I'm younger at soul. Speaking of which...I understand that you are young, but your father does know you're going where you're going, right?"

"He does."

"And your aunt lives in London?"

"Well, that's where we're going, aren't we?" Moon feigns bewilderment. "Or am I on the wrong plane?"

It evokes a laugh out of the woman. "No, you're on the right plane. You sound English, but also American."

"One parent is from England and the other is from the States," she lies.

"Ah, that makes sense." She stops short, "I'm not prodding too much, am I?"

"Oh no, you aren't," Moon answers immediately. Now that she looked at it, it did seem a bit like she was squeezing information out of her like a tube of toothpaste. She replies nonchalantly though. "I don't mind. I like talking about myself. You can call me self-centered."

The woman laughs again. _Score!_ "If it helps, I'll tell you a bit about myself on the way. You said it yourself, ten hours. And it means a lot of talk and ways to kill time." A air hostess is creeping through the aisle, persuading everyone to buckle up. Moon and the woman begin to fiddle with their own belts. "I've had a long conversation with you, but I haven't caught your name. Silly me."

"Name's Moon," she answers with a smile, pausing over her belt. "It's nice to meet you, miss."

"I'm...Elizabeth," the lady reciprocates her smile.

After a few silent minutes, the plane is running along a road and pivoting into the air as Moon's knuckles whiten around her armrest and the dizziness rushes to her head. She wasn't sure before take off and now, she's not sure if she wants to land.

***

It's true. Ten hours is quite a long time.

 Before Moon can ponder on the variety of things she could do, her head is thrown back against the rest and her mouth is open with bubbling snores. Well, she did wake up at five in the morning to board a blooming plane that she didn't properly decide to even go on. Along with that, the tension with her father only got heavier like walking on shattered glass around him. Like, one toe out of the line and he or she would fall on the ground like pearls.

 The tediousness gets to her and the sleep does compensate for it. She wakes up with sand in her eyes and sourness in her mouth six hours later. Elizabeth laughs at her flustered stance from over her glasses and goes back to the fashion magazine clasped in her manicured hands. Lunch arrives and she's ravenous. She doesn't talk much. There's music and vintage movies being her companion and she doesn't have to utter much. When the seat-belt sign is off, she calls Harry to tell him that she's fine. And for an hour, she fiddles with the air conditioning vents over her head and annoys the air hostesses till they've lost their petty smiles and tell her with utmost politeness that she may not have a glass of wine.

 "Do you know who I am?" She bursts out at some point. "I will ruin you! I will ruin you all! Wait till my father hears about this!"

 "Who actually are you?" Elizabeth stage-whispers, having set aside her headphones for a better choice of live entertainment.

 "No one, really," she mutters only for her ears. The air hostess looks pale. "Very well. I'll talk to my father about all this trash service. He'll know how you treat your guests. I'll see what you say, then. I'll see what you won't allow," she spits and the terrified lady hurtles away after profusely apologizing. When she looks back, Elizabeth is trying to muffle her gasping laughs into the back of her hand. "I was Draco Malfoy in last year's Harry Potter play. My teachers said I would able to apply my education in real life, I'm doing just that."

 Elizabeth goes red with stifled laughter. "I thank the heavens for putting you next to me on their impending aeroplane. I am very glad." She lets out the remnant laughter in her.

 When the plane arrives in London, Moon is a mess. She's tired but bouncing with unknown energy. For three hours, Elizabeth and her have acted like inconsiderate beings, she doubts if the woman's a child stuck in that body. They watch movies without volume and make up their own dialogues, counting so many peanuts they can sneak onto the walrus moustache of the guy in front. They annoy the air hostess into fetching them what they want and the woman sneaks her sips of her champagne.

 They get down from the plane and come into the departure lounge. Elizabeth bids her goodbye and says if they meet again, they'll take each other's numbers. Moon tells her it's impossible with a laugh and waves and walks away.

 In the seating area, her eyes dart around nervously as her clammy hand gets sweaty over her bag. If her aunt was late, she'd be a goner. She didn't know another soul in this city of a million. She decides that walking down to the exit would be a wiser idea, but as soon as she starts walking, there's a shout. "Moonie!"

 Moon glances in the direction, both hopeful and relieved. There's a familiar brunette jogging up to her with a delayed sign that says 'my niece extraordinaire'. "Auntie Gemma!"

 As she comes closer, her features are better to decipher. Dents in her cheeks like her father's. Shoulder length hair and wrinkled eyes. Dressed in jeans and a fitting top, taller than ever. She drops the sign and winds her arms around Moon's middle and lifts her off the ground as she lets out a surprised shriek. "Look at you! You've grown up so much!"

 She wraps her arms around her aunt's shoulders, laughing against them. "Yeah, it's good to see you too."

 Gemma sets her down, this time with a little finesse and grins with her two dimples. "How's my favourite niece doing?"

 "I'm your only niece," Moon argues playfully. Her complete English accent comes back into swing without her acknowledgement. "I've been the usual. It's good to be back and I've really been wanting to see you all. It's been way too long!"

 "It is, sweetheart. How's your Pappa doing? He's irritating you quite a lot, isn't he? That's why you buggered off here," she takes Moon's bag from her and wraps an arm around her shoulder. Moon doesn't have time to comprehend an answer as she continues speaking. "Are you hungry? I made supper around two hours ago. We can heat it up and sit in front of the telly. We can relax from that ten-hour plane of yours."

 "I'm famishing," she exaggerates. "The plane food was absolute crap and I couldn't even ask for seconds. And, the seat. God, it was awful. My back hurts like a-"

 Gemma nudges her, smirk taking over her mouth. "That's enough, now. You didn't like it, yes, stop complaining. Your father will tell you to earn your own money if he hears you."

 "Good thing he isn't here," she chirrups and the both fist-bump, laughing together. It's a late cold Friday night in London. The dew condenses on Moon's window as they drive out. The roads are scattered with cars and bikes and wagons. There are little diners still puffing out smoke from their chimneys and houses with their lights on. The red buses are stuffed with talking people. She breaths in the drizzle and draws shapes on the window as her aunt bobs her head to music from the radio. When they get home, they're dead on their feet. The wall clock flashes a mocking 11:02, but they still change into their pyjamas, tuck their legs into the couch and eat dinner in front of the flat screen. There was a _Blue Lagoon_ remake blaring on it as they picked at their chicken.

 Moon glances at her aunt and chews over if she could ask her about her mother or Louis. Gemma herself had gone through a lot with her love life and asking about her father's felt wrong. Maybe Harry had an old sweet love story that froze in time, but Gemma had an estranged fiancé and a miscarriage right after. Moon wondered how she smiled to effortlessly even when there was a picture of a sonogram by her bedside table.

 "Hey, Auntie?" She starts lightly. Mother, she thinks, Louis is a far option, asking about her mother was a probably smaller prospect. "I called Uncle Niall here over tomorrow. Is that okay?"  

 Gemma looks at her, big eyes and dropped jaw. "What?! When?" She screeches. "I haven't seen him in years and... And, you can't drop that on me!"

 "I'm sorry," she says abashedly. "I called him when you went to change." 

 "No, you're not! You're not sorry," Her aunt argues. already having putting her plate on the tea table and kicked away the cushions. "You're enjoying, this, I know you are. You like watching me panic and freak out!"

 "I'm not," Moon answers, batting her eyelashes in what she thinks is a convincing manner. "Why are you so worried, by the way?"

 "You didn't even warn me, that's why!"

 But, Moon is somewhere else. She jumps with a realisation and simpers at her aunt. "Pappa told me that you fancied him once upon a time."

 "What? No!" Gemma protests, but contradicting her statement with colour raises into her cheeks. "That isn't true! Why would Harry even tell you that! Are you even old enough for this kind of talk!" She blows out a harsh breath. "Okay, even if I did, why would it effect me now? I'm just really...surprised. You sprung it on me. And. I haven't seen him. In years. Like, more than five years, alright."

 "Uh-huh," Moon replies sardonically as she picks up both their plates. She sets them in the sink and grabs two spoons and the ice-cream pack from the freezer before making her way back. Gemma stares at her tempestuously, but she ignores her, instead, placing the ice-cream between them with the two spoons buried halfway in it. "You need to chill. Have some ice-cream. Everything gets better with ice-cream."

Gemma grudgingly picks up her spoon and shovels a smidge of caramel and brownie in her mouth, she visibly relaxes. They don't say anything after that. They quietly watch the movie and go to bed. Moon hopes that it's approval of some sort. She hopes a lot of other things too. Like, how the next day shouldn't be disastrous. Or how she will find her other father soon. Or how she can have both her fathers under the same roof at some point. She hopes too much of hope won't bring her down.

                                                                                     ***

When the doorbell rings repeatedly that's laced with the annoying intercom's voice, Gemma is white faced as she glowers at her niece. Moon, of course, doesn't understand why it's such a big deal as she jumps off her high stool under the breakfast bar and strides over to open the door.

  Niall greets her the exact same way Gemma did. He picks her off the ground with an addition to a sloppy kiss on her forehead. "You're getting bigger every time I see you!" He exclaims.

  "Everybody says that," she answers. "Puberty, I guess. Plus, it's been two years since you last saw me."

  "How have you been, bud?" He asks, but at the right moment, Gemma comes wandering into the living room and it's like he's momentarily forgotten that this was her house. His eyes flash as he takes her form in; hair in a long bob cut and with a polo with suspenders on; like a typical country girl. "Wow. Uh. Gemma."

  Her aunt blushes under the attention and Moon rolls her eyes looking between them. "Niall. Hello...how have you been?"

  Niall is still being busy staring at her like she invented waffle cones. "I-I. Yeah. Um. I've been great. You... you look great."

  Before Gemma can further drag it out with a stuttering reply, Moon cuts in. "Okay, now. We get it. You both are great. We should move on from re-introduction."

  Gemma scowls at her, then morphing her pinched lips into a smile. "I'll make us some tea."

  After she leaves the room, Niall is out of his stiff position when he plops himself onto the sofa, still grinning his winsome grin. He leans forward to her. "So, Moonie, we have to catch up. How's that bugger of a father of yours?"

  Moon actually contemplates asking him which one, but decides against it. She smiles a bit plastically. "Oh, he's alright. He didn't want to let me come here, but you know me."

"Said like my goddaughter," Niall concludes with a boisterous laugh. Gemma comes in with a spider legged tray that crawls at her heels and it sets itself on the tea table. "Gem, how you been?"

"I'm fine. I'm great, actually." She says carefully as if she was trying not to let her nerves make an appearance in her voice. "I wasn't expecting you."

Niall hums, spooning a generous amount of sugar in his cup along with an ample amount of cream and stirs noisily, clinking against the china. "Well, our goddaughter called me a few days ago and said she wanted to meet me. I was in Manchester up until yesterday."

"Oh," the woman's cheeks colour pink at the word 'our' but she swiftly turns to cock an expecting eyebrow at Moon. "Is that so?"

"Yup," Niall says nonchalantly, glancing at Moon with concerned eyes. "She was all...sad when she messaged me and she asked me to see her once she gets to London."

Moon, who's jetlag was catching up with her, suppressed a yawn. She had been awake the whole night. Only sleeping in the early morning hours, which was inconvenient and she hadn't been able to catch up with her fatigue. She blinked slowly at the sound of her name. Then, she seats up straighter when she found her aunt glaring at her. "Uh, wha-" she clears her throat. "Yeah. Um. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. It's just...I have a few questions."

"You called me here to ask questions?"

Not being able to absorb in the heat of her aunt's glare, she blurts out. "I want to know about my mother!"

Both of them might have been sipping on their tea since Gemma and Niall sputter simultaneously, choking before exchanging incredulous glances. "What," Gemma deadpans. "What is going on? Why the sudden inquiry?"

"Look, you both don't have to pretend that you know nothing when I know that you know," Moon sighs. "I talked to Pappa after I stumbled upon a few old photo albums."

  Niall was still goggling, having set his cup aside, straightening up. "You mean to say... that, you know about-"

  "Yes," she stamps down. "I know about Bria. I remember her vaguely, but I need you both to tell me more."

  "Is this why you're in London?" Gemma fires at her.

  "Partially." She gives in. "I mean, yes. I came to visit you all, that was the main thing. It was the priority before I even found out, but when I did, I wanted to come here more than anything."

  "What do you know?" Niall asks suspiciously.

  "Just some things about Bria. I want to know her better," Moon gulps down the taste of bile in her mouth. "Even if she isn't here."

  Gemma looks at her feet, pursing her lips worriedly. "You have to ask Niall. I didn't know her much. Your father introduced me to her when she was already in the hospital. I couldn't get to know her because there wasn't much time."

  "Hospital? How did she die?"

  "Terminal cancer," her aunt answers quietly.

  "She was very beautiful, y'know? Your mother," Niall says so silently, that it's hard to catch. He looks up with glassy eyes, lips white. "I loved her quite a lot. And, she loved you quite a lot."

Niall's face crumples and Gemma takes it as her cue to look outside the window with a tight mouth. He continues to stay rigid. Moon watches breathlessly at both of them, how a person's name had set a damper in the atmosphere which was ringing with laughter only a few seconds ago.

"I knew you'd come asking about everything, at some point of time," Niall continues. "I just knew it. I just didn't expect it to be this early. I should've prepared myself and all that, Bria herself told me that."

"I want to see her," she says quietly. It's impossible, she knows. Her mother is somewhere else, far from them, but the childish wish gets the better of her. Suddenly, she wants to know everything, she wants all the secrets out of the bag and in front of her. She's done with trying to act as if nothing was wrong in the first place or as if nothing was the explanation to anything.

 That's how she finds herself at a cemetery about forty minutes later.

 Niall refused to come inside, rubbing his cold palms together while leaning against the rusty gate and avoiding their gazes. "I'll be right here when you're done. Hurry up, now," he says gruffly and steps away to look at the weeping sky.

Gemma wordlessly grasps her niece's hand and pulls her along, weaving through the various graves. The grass was reaching a bit above their ankles and needed a bit of trimming, not to mention the eerie effect it was giving to the current passers. Several gravestones were cracked and were home to bouquets of wilting flowers and wreaths of dying leaves. There was a lonely balsam tree that stood up a hill.

Moon's thoughts come to a stop as her aunt does too. Gemma nods at the ground before them. "This is the one."

The girl reluctantly glances down, heavy eyes falling on the granite that was enveloped with a thin layer of dust. She let go of her aunt's hand, tugging it out of her grip harshly while hugging the bouquet of chrysanthemums closer to her chest. She drops to her knees, running her fingers over the headstone into which her mum's name was etched into like a promise.

**CAMBRIA ELSIE WALTERS **  
_1993-2018  
A loving daughter, friend and mother_

She did the maths in her head. Her mother was just an year older than her father. Gemma squeezes her shoulder and walks a few steps away, probably to give a moment. But, Moon couldn't cry. Despite knowing she finally had a mother who was long gone dead and lived under a stone ever since, did not make her cry. Instead, she felt relieved. Her father could keep her mother to himself like he did to her since the last thirteen years. The lothario rumours would've gotten worse if Harry would have been known to media as one to have a kid with his best friend. Maybe things would be different, but she couldn't imagine them in a better or a different way.

After around five minutes, Moon decides she can no longer stare at the stone without feeling it's cold in her bones, so, she rises from her spot, stuffs her fists in her pocket and makes her way to the aunt that has been a few meters away since. Gemma continues peering at the balsam tree despite her arrival. "I know where this is going and I know you're curious, Moonie," she hisses softly, eyes intact. "But, I have a feeling it isn't going to end well."

Moon exhales, eyes following up the tree. "You don't have a choice, dear auntie. You'll finally have to open your mouth after all these years of shutting it. You'll have to tell me even if you don't want to."

***

It's only a three days later and Gemma's scowl hasn't been wiped off her face despite her niece's consolidated attempts.

In the meanwhile, Moon has video-conferenced her father, leaving out all details about the meeting with Niall. The poor chap had dropped them, drank another cup of tea and left for Leeds. Neither of the two woman wanted him to leave, but they couldn't hold him back either. But, of course, she doesn't mention any of those things, just telling him how the London air had gotten better in her lungs, albeit being polluted.

Gemma hasn't given her a long glance in while, probably due to the evolution of accusing thought churning in her head. Moon didn't blame her though, she was planning to make aunt more harried afterwards. Her father didn't tell her anything and she didn't ask in return. The only solution was to take advantage of the soft spot her aunts and uncles had for her.

"Don't you think I know what you're doing? Making me drive you there?" Gemma asks quietly from beside her.

They're zipping through the traffic in Gemma's car, Moon bobbing her head to the music, next to her. However, she stops and glimpses at her left. "I do think you know. But, you're not stopping me. You want me to know everything as much as I do."

Her aunt doesn't answer her, just muttering inaudible curses under her breath. "If you do get to know everything, tell your dad it wasn't my fault."

"I won't," she smirks. "But, he'll know without me telling."

Gemma huffs but doesn't answer. Five minutes, they're before a large guarded gate. The security take their fingerprints and their retina scans from previous visits and thankfully, they match like always do, but it's a shame that the place has safety issues. They leave their car out and walk in and past identical houses of lavishness. Then, they reach house number 18.

The lawn is sprawling with synthetic petunias and by the look of it, the windows are adorned with rich velvet curtains on the inside. There are three shiny cars parked next to each other in open garage and the door standing lonely to side.

When they get to it, her aunt pulls her back from pressing the doorbell. Gemma raises her eyebrows expectantly at her. "Please don't make them want to set fire to themselves."

"I won't," Moon promises idly, leaning forward to answer the sensor intercom that beeped annoyingly.

In the matter of a few seconds, the door slides into a narrow slot with a hiss and standing there is Liam. "Moon!" He grabs onto her, tucking her under his large arms. "Look at you, we've been so excited to see you. Zayn's been on his feet since you called."

Moon doesn't express that they won't be so enthusiastic once she opens her mouth and her figurative notepad. She hugs back gladly and smiles tight-lipped. "It's wonderful to see you too."

"Have they come?" A familiar voice rings from inside.

"Yeah, babe," Liam calls out, after finishing with hugging Gemma with a twinkling smile.

A shaggy haired man with a goofy smile makes his way to them, eyes gleaming golden as he pulls Moon in through the door and ruffles her hair before pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "How you been, Moonie?"

"I'm fine, Uncle Zayn," she says, smiling toothily.

Zayn surges forward to brush cheeks with Gemma and leaves an air kiss while doing so. "Very long time it's been, hasn't it, Gems?" She laughs and nods. "You got the invitation, right? You won't need to RSVP, since I know you'll be there."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Gemma says sweetly, but quickly glances down at her watch. "It's been a nice chitter chatter with you all, but I need to get to work. My boss is going to absolutely kill me."

Liam laughs, the sound of it crinkling at his eyes. "Alright, Gemma. You can pick her at three? Is that too much time or will you miss her?" Her aunt laughs another time and bids farewell and walks away until Moon can see only the outline of her head at the end of the road. Liam winds an arm around her shoulder and guides her into the living room to sit in a recliner. "So, tell me, Moonie; why have you decided to visit us? I mean, it makes sense when your father is there, but seriously, we're boring old men."

"Speak for yourself," Zayn calls out as he brings into a large platter of sausage and eggs, balancing plates with another palm. He sets it on the stretching tea table along with a few dishes of diced fruit. "Tuck in, babes," he says to Moon with a wink. "I know you love a little meal after breakfast."

She unabashedly picks up a plate and piles it, ignoring their delighted laughs. Zayn and Liam sit across each other as if to show the synchronisation of their relationship, and it almost makes her feel a bit green. After she's had a few mouthfuls swallowed, she begins to speak. "Since Pappa's not letting me come to your wedding, I thought I'd visit you."

At that, both of them turn silent, conversing with eyes over her head. "I'm sorry, love," Liam says slowly. "We really want you to come, but if Harry doesn't want you to at all, we can't help you."

Moon stops mid-chew and sets her plate aside on the couch arm. She moves back and relaxes into the sofa. "Actually you can. Help me, that is."

Zayn is puzzled. He sits adjacent to her and asks what she's on about.

"Will you..." she trails off. "I-- I need. Erm. Will you help me? I mean, you have to, I don't have a choice and neither do you." She pauses, sighs before she blurts it out. "Can you tell me about my other dad?"

Liam's plate falls to the floor, thankfully landing soft from the plush carpet underneath their feet. Zayn just turns a bit pale, but doesn't react much. It's almost as if he's been expecting it from years. Moon averts her gaze and considers going back to eating and pretending that the last minute didn't happen. Yes, that would be better.

But, Zayn finally speaks up coolly. "And, why did you come to the conclusion of having another dad?"

Moon takes in a deep breath and begins. "You guys don't have to pretend or anything. I know you know. I know I had a mother, who's not actually considered my mother. Pappa also admitted to it, and he also said he was with someone before I was born-- which is the logical answer. He said you knew him too. I'm guessing not as good as Pappa, but good enough."

Liam stares at her blankly. "I didn't prepare myself for this. I didn't know you'd come to us for it, either." He glances tensely at his fiancé and back again. "I don't know what to tell you. It's not our story to tell."

"It isn't, but you know you want to tell me."

"Did your father say that we just knew him?" Zayn asks.

"Zayn!" Liam says incredulously.

"I don't know much. I just found out about Bria yesterday and me and Aunty Gemma went to see her at the graveyard a couple of days ago. But, that's it. All I know is that you all knew my other dad too and that his name is Louis and I look like him a lot." She wrings her fingers. "Mostly because Pappa called me that accidentally."

"Of course, Harry would do that," Zayn mutters loud enough. "And your aunt knows too? And she's helping?" Moon nods and Zayn looks her dead in the eye. "Now, we all were in a band together, weren't we, Moon? How many of us do you think were in it?"

Liam looks panicky and shocked. "Zayn, stop encouraging this! You know we aren't supposed to--"

"Hush, Liam," he says quietly. "You know that Harry's lost the right to keep it from her a long time ago. It was wrong and it still is, and he didn't bother telling either of them. Risking it is the only option... now, Moon, tell me."

Moon scrunches her nose, trying to fathom her uncle's words. They don't make sense, but they probably will when she sees the whole overview of the picture. "Erm. Four. You two, Pappa and Niall. That's all, right? I don't understand..."

Zayn looks conflicted, but the look gets erased as he calls for the maid from the corner of his mouth. "Myra, will you go into the attic and get me the box named BAND? Thank you." He smiles with his lips tight. "You'll find out quite a lot now, Moonie. It's a bit hard to digest, but. Yeah. We'll also have to keep Liam from having a heart attack."

"I'm not going to have one," the said person squeaks.

"You seem to be on the verge of having one, though," Moon muses out loud.

"Certainly, not," Liam fires back.

Soon, the friendly maid is tripping back to them, a wheeler pushing towards them that holds a bulking box similar to those in most attics. She coughs as she and Zayn lift it onto the coffee table after clearing it of it's food, before she leaves. The flaps are encased with dust, collecting probably since years. Zayn leans forward on the edge of the seat beside Moon as if he'd almost been waiting years to reopen it. In his eyes, the ghost of pasts shine brighter than the LED lights in the house. He wipes away the dust and cobwebs idly with the back of his hand and pries it open slowly. His arm muscles strain as he lifts a large book-- an album out and places it in his lap. His fingers brush at the cover, smoothing over the golden spiral bind. ONE DIRECTION, it says on the front in fancy cursive.

"You know what the irony is?" Liam starts off after a prolonged silence. "Harry himself got these done in... 2015? Yeah, 2015. He personally went and got them styled and printed copies for all of us. And look here, we're exploiting what he's given us. We're using it against him."

"Shut up, Liam. You know I've only been waiting a million years for this." Zayn hisses and flips to the front page. There's a picture with the entire band standing next to each other on stage. The lights are skimming off their lustrous faces and all their teeth are out. It's a completely natural picture-- only something doesn't feel right. There's Liam with his arm looped around Niall and Harry listening intently as Zayn whispers something in his ear. One thing is not right, though. To the extreme end, is standing another person, basking his face under the stage-lights. The ridged nose and long eyelashes is all too familiar. Louis.

"What--" she splutters, pointing accusatorily at the picture.

Zayn looks up at her, triumph written in his eyes though his lips quirk down. "Our band didn't have four members, Moon, it had five. Both your fathers were it. We didn't just know Louis, it was much more than that. And... I'll tell you whatever I can if I have to."

"Why do I feel like I've seen him somewhere is the first thing Moon bursts out with. "I've seen him somewhere. I know I have." The picture on her phone was hazy because the actual one was a faded polaroid that sat under the bed for years, but looking a good quality one raises a question in her. "I know look like him, but, I know I've seen him somewhere else."

Liam opens his mouth to answer her.

"No, no," she cuts in before he can get anything out. "I know what you're going to say, but, really, I know I've seen him somewhere." Her eyes dart around to the walls around her. Photo-frames are put in a pattern on the walls, but some spots left ridiculously bald. It seems dodgy. She flips towards the other two who are eyeing her curiously. "You took off the pictures, didn't you? He's there in them, right? God, I'm going to kill Pappa for-"

Zayn is quick to be out of his seat, he goes into what looks like an office through the open doors and brings out a small pile of photo-frames and places them gently in her lap before sitting on the armrest of Liam's sofa chair. She shifts her gaze to the pictures and through the reflecting glass, she can see Liam and the familiar face- only with more wrinkles and less shine. She could definitely tell who he was, now that she saw what he currently looked like.

"My father is a X Factor UK's judge," she deadpans after a while. "All this time, I was watching him on the telly --he was right in front of me the entire time-- and I couldn't tell. I'm so stupid."

Louis Tomlinson was the good looking judge on X Factor as far as she knew. Everybody loved making him smile and waited for his wisecracks to be out in the air. She knew that they said he was in a boy-band before, but this was the biggest coincidence (or not) in the entire cruelty of universe. She saw him when she came to London and watched him on subscribed channels back at home. Indeed, she was stupid.

"I knew you'd recognise him for some reason," Liam quips in.

"Why did no one tell me?! Oh God, all this time," Moon trails off. "All this time, I've been so blind. I look at a younger version of him everyday in the mirror and I couldn't make it out. Just-" she cuts herself off with an exaggerated sigh that sinks her shoulders.

"Sometimes, the answers are always in front of our eyes," Zayn says, shrugging lightly. "We just don't see them."

"This isn't the time for philosophical crap, Zayn!" She bursts that it takes the other two off guard. "Okay, I'm sorry. But, I'm honestly losing my mind here."

"I understand what you're feeling, love," Zayn begins.

"No, you don't. You really don't. You don't know how it is to be searching for your parent and to find out that they were in front of you the whole time. You don't." She pauses to exhale shakily. "Tell me. From the start."

Then, both of them weave out what seems like a fairy-tale at start. Two boys meeting in the bathroom and fate taking another chance just to put them in the same band. It takes a wild turn from there where dreams become nightmares and freedom becomes scarce. Things became bigger things. Their band became a household name, coming out of moonstruck teenagers' mouths. Apparently, all the lads were given identities of their --how to act and how to be for the cameras. And fake girlfriends, everyone had them.

"You know Perrie, don't you?" Zayn says. She nods in reply. "She's our best friend now, but she was my fake fiancée back then," and it leaves her with a dropped jaw.

"Why couldn't you just be out with the truth?" She asks incredulously. "How can you shame somebody for being who they are?!"

"People weren't as accepting as they are right now, because times changed. Back then, having a gay member in a boy-band was a stereotype that was frowned upon, Moon," Liam replies as though he didn't want to start a storm inside her. But, it was already happening. It rose with fire, from her chest and spread to every contour of her body. "Having two seemed like a joke to everyone."

"What about you two?" She points between both of her uncles. "How did you do it? That would mean four out of five of you were, erm, gay, right?"

Zayn laughs lightly, his shoulders shaking with it, hand subconsciously finding his fiancé's. "Your parents didn't have a subtle bone in their body. They'd look at each other all the time and they were so bloody fond that it was sickening. Liam and I on the other hand... we kept it from our team for years. We only came out a few years ago. Till then, media's grip was tight on us and now, it's become tighter. I suppose once you're introduced to it, you can never turn your back to it."

"Wow," she says in awe. "I didn't think it was that difficult. I mean, Pappa did a good job keeping me away from it; seeing as we moved to a small town in the States and he told the paps that my name was 'Shelby', can you believe that? I have a subscription to Yahoo on Twitter and the most anybody did was catch a picture of my side profile and the headlines were 'Good to finally see a bit of always-concealed Shelby Styles'. It really sucks and they think I'm adopted and everything. It's fun to watch them try to figure it out."

Liam hums in approval. "Which is a reason not to be so angry with Harry, you should thank him. It's not an easy thing and he's putting himself out there to save you."

Moon contemplates this for second, before the words take over her mouth. "You are right. But, that's no excuse to hide things from me for so long." She pauses, gasping out. "I completely forgot to ask and it's been itching me for a while. I know I really want to meet my dad --if that's what I'm allowed to call him-- and I hope I don't, like, barge into his life like a wart. But, would it be awkward if I did? He could be married. He could have kids. Oh God, that means more siblings! Is he married? You'd know, right? Is he?"

Liam glances quizzically at the man beside him. "How are we supposed to answer that question? Is he--"

Zayn is quick to cut across. "No. No, he's not married. You would be barging, that is true. But, we'll presume it for a good cause. On all three of you."

"Daddy?" A disembodied voice from a little away.

Moon flips in the same direction to find a little girl of four tucked against one of the heavy curtain, hugging her teddy bear close to her neck. Her skin is the colour of cinnamon and her face is round just like the soft brown irises in her eyes that sleep roughened up. Her mouth is parted in question, bottom lip jutting out. Her hair is bunched into two ponytails that hang by her ears like bunny ears. Upon feeling a stranger's eyes on her, she burrows herself further into the silk she's hanging onto.

" _Betah_ , you woke up! How did you sleep?" Zayn beckons her over with a soft smile. "Come here, there's someone we want you to meet."

She's still watching Moon with confused eyes. "Okay," she mumbles. She makes her way to him just to lean against him for a second before she goes against it and settles into Liam's lap.

"It's alright, love," Liam whispers to her.

Moon's confusion is immediately erased as she fathoms that this is their daughter that Harry had been telling her for a while. She looks exactly like they'd made her seem-- innocent and timid. Harry told her that they adopted her an year ago when she was two, which meant she was probably turning three in a while. Her biological parents were originally from India but passed away in a car accident when they'd become citizens of the UK. She smiles pleasantly, trying to sound welcoming on the first impression. "Oh, hello, Aisha, I've heard so much about you."

The toddler's eyebrows furrow as she narrows eyes at Zayn. "Baba, _yeh kaun hai?"_

_"Darna math_. Her name is Moon. Remember I told you about her?"

"Oh!" Her face lights up with recognition as if she'd seen it coming. "Moonie!"

Zayn chuckles lowly. "That's the one."

She clambers off Liam's lap and tentatively makes her towards Moon, before scanning her entirely. She takes one of her chubby fists in the air and pokes her cheek with a stubby finger. "You're real," she whispers conspicuously.

Moon bubbles out a laugh through her mouth. "I am." She peers at Zayn. "She knows Urdu?"

Zayn hums in response. "She knows Hindi pretty well and I know pieces of Urdu. She goes to my parents' house every month just so they could spoil her and my dad never fails to teach her a bit of both since he knows them. I'm the one learning from her, actually. My father says it's a shame."

 She turns back to Aisha and lets her feel her hair, laughing when she says it's smooth. When Moon leaves in the afternoon, she can see hope in both of the men's eyes and suspicion in Gemma's when she pulls her closer.

If they didn't get it right that time, she's going to get it right for them.  
  
***

"Okay, now let the cat out of the basket," Gemma huffs once they're settled into their haven of a couch. They've reached home about half an hour ago, a sci-fi movie playing on the flat screen illuminating in front of them. Moon is tucked into an arm with a bowl of popcorn, occasionally dipping it into a saucer of maple syrup sitting on the table next to her. She watches the film, but also steals glances at her aunt who's quietly typing up an article on her laptop.

Moon stops mid chew, sparing her a questioning look. "You got a cat and you didn't tell me?"

"No!" Gemma blows away the strand of hair that falls over her eyes with utmost finesse of puffing her cheeks and heaving on it. "No, that's not what I meant. Tell me what you're thinking. Tell me what they told you. Also, tell me what you want me to do about it."

The girl pauses, pursing her lips together. Of course, this would come up. They hadn't talked much on the way back home, just Gemma asking her if she had a good time and only earning a nod in answer. "We talked. Zayn's going to release a new single with Liam and maybe Annabelle Nalic in it, I mean she does have a great voice, y'know. I met their daughter. Aisha's the cutest and the first thing she did was ask me if I was real. She speaks a mix of Urdu and Hindi, can you believe it?"

  
"That was not all, I'm certain. You would have brought up a few taboos," Gemma gives out a sigh of long suffering, looking at expectantly, work forgotten. "Tell me what you actually talked about. Tell me what you want me to do."

"You're ready to do something about it? You were quite sour a few days ago."

"That isn't really going to matter to you, is it. You're going dig for answer because you're as curious as anything," Gemma scoffs, looking at her expectantly, work forgotten. "Besides, I thought I already established that I'd help you even if I didn't want to."

Moon hesitates for a few seconds, before placing her popcorn and maple syrup on the table in front of her. Instead of looking at her aunt, she chooses to train her gaze on the faux leather of the sofa, fiddling with her nails. Right when she thinks Gemma is going to impatiently pipe up, she speaks. "I found out about my other father."

Gemma gapes for a second before -surprisingly- a grin spreads out her cheeks and dimples swallow them. "Hallelujah! It's about time! I'm going to thank Zayn and Liam next time I meet them! At least, it wasn't me who told you!"

The girl raises an eyebrows. "What? You're happy?"

 "Of course, I'm blooming happy!" Gemma bounces to face her. "Now, you'll ask me questions and I can answer without hesitating and then-" she cuts across herself. "Now, tell me what's your plan?"

Moon has a million questions swirling in her head, but she chooses to push them aside and focus on the current situation. The words gather themselves on her tongue before she can even think about it. "You know, how a man only listens to his mother? So... let's go meet my Gran?"

 ***

 They're standing on the platform of the train station the next morning. Sleep weighs heavy on both their eyelids, but so does adrenaline in their veins. They're going to see Moon's gran today and neither of their stomachs are settling. The place is not crowded as it usually is and there are a few dozing off in the chairs. Quiet callings for the coming trains are spoken calm by the information desk.  

 Moon was arduous, really, to meet her other grandmother. She had hopes of soft wrinkled hands and even more wrinkled smiles and other aunts and uncles. But, the warmth was cut down the negativity of not being accepted. She couldn't stop thinking about the fact that the accusatory finger could be pointed at her, claiming she was fraud. She could think about how her father was to be put under shame if anything went wrong or how Gemma would be blamed for keeping the secret -her- for so long. But, she blinks herself out of her reverie before the thoughts escalate too far beyond retrieval.

"How long is the ride for?"

Gemma suppresses a yawn with the back of hand, blinking lazily. It made her look uncannily like her father. "If we take a Bullet, we can reach in half an hour, it will come in another fifteen minutes. So, we'll be there," she pauses to glance at her phone for the time. "At approximately, seven o' clock."

Soon, the train does come on time, true to it's word. Moon boards on with wobbly legs and stumbles onto a seat next to a window. Gemma immediately plops herself next to her niece, and quickly pulls out a touchscreen mp3 player and connects her ear plugs via Bluetooth. "Quick, put this in," she hands one to Moon. "We only have half an hour and I'm going to brief you about your fathers."

Moon takes it from her, reluctantly stuffing in her ear. "Okay, but, I was already given an intro by Uncle Zayn and Uncle Liam."

 "But, they haven't told you about certain shared penmanship, have they?" Moon shakes her head confusedly and Gemma hums before plucking out a touchscreen pad out of her handbag. "I've made this playlist for this occasion about eight years ago.  _Finally_ , I get to show you." Moon must have the confusion reflecting on her face, because her aunt answers her questions. "Your parents never loved each other normally. If we ever get the day, I'll show you all the fan videos that were dedicated to them. Right now, let's stick to songs and lyrics."

"What do you mean they didn't love each other normally? Also, what does songs have to do with this?"

 Gemma purses her lips. "If you knew them from the start, you'd understand what I meant. They were... so besotted with each other from the moment they met. Soon, before they could go on with it, they were supressed. In the worst ways." She sighs, levelling her niece with a concerned look. "You're old enough to understand this, aren't you, Moonie? Harry was given a womaniser reputation of sleeping with four hundred woman an year, Louis contradicted it, of course, but they found techniques to weaken him, they gave him a long term girlfriend and he was victimised to gay rumours so much, he wished he wasn't. They were so strong for so long, but it can hard, you know?" Gemma lowers her voice, staring at her lap. Moon wondered if she was talking about her fathers or herself. "So, during those years, they managed by getting matching tattoos and writing songs. Only a few came out and neither of them would show me all their other hundred, so I have the ones that are officially in the albums."

 Moon bites her lip, choosing to look elsewhere. "I'd love to meet my... dad. Yeah, my dad. I just hope everyone will accept me. I don't. I really- I don't know what I'd do if they didn't."

 "You're nervous, aren't you?"

 The girl sighs shakily. "I am. But, put that aside now. Show me these songs you have in store."

 Thankfully, Gemma agrees to let go and she turns on her touchscreen tab before opening up a folder of notes, while pressing play on the mp3. Slow piano notes fill Moon's head like it's familiar to her. She's heard a few of her father's songs; only selected ones. They were all light and indie rock, but sounded a soft ballad. Her aunt shakes her from her reverie, and points to her pad. "Both your fathers wrote this."

The words on the device must be the lyrics, because it says _THEY DON'T KNOW ABOUT US_ on top, before descending into smaller letters. Moon follows the words as Liam's voice begins to croon. As the song proceeded to the chorus, Moon's eyes widened. She could see what her aunt meant, and she could hear a whole love story in those three and a half minutes. "I-I didn't know. What- I just. This is so-" Moon stutters out later on.

 "I know," Gemma says softly, as if she understands what her speechlessness means. So, they move onto the next song. She swipes through her notes and lands on _HAPPILY_. "I'm only showing you a couple of songs, if we take out all of them, a day won't be enough," she explains. "Harry wrote this when Louis was stuck with his fake girlfriend."

 This song; is angst in verbal form. It irks and saddens as she listens. It sounds like Harry's fighting and trying to give, but he can't. It sounds like he's reaching out a hand to Louis, who's hand is reaching out as well, with his other laced around a mysterious woman's. It sounds like Harry's on his knees on the kitchen floor, choking on his sobs. It sounds he's trying to prove something.

"Wow," Moon says at the end and that's that.

Gemma moves to another song; _STRONG_ and explains that this was the first song Louis dedicated to her father. As she plays it, Moon can tell by the title and the low beats of the guitar that it'll hit home. She makes it through the first verses without bursting, but as soon as the chorus begins with a pair of drums, it's like she can feel what's in her father's voice. The pride and longing and tiredness. All there in the six lines that Harry sings. She begins to tear up right as Zayn starts his bridge.

 When the song comes to an end like the beginning, Gemma has switched off her mp3. "They said they'd always hold on, didn't they?" Moon says hoarsely after a few minutes. "If this," she points accusingly at the touchscreen pad. "-is what they promised and couldn't do, then, why do it in the first place? Why let go?"

Gemma frowns, smoothing a hand over Moon's hair that has fallen like a curtain around her face. "I don't know, babe. You're going to have to ask your parents. They have to answer the questions that you deserve the answers for."

 Fifteen minutes, the train comes to a inertial stop at a small train station. It says 'Doncaster' on the board above her head as she gets off the train with jelly legs. Gemma snakes an arm around her shoulder and pulls her in, smiling uneasily. "Ready to meet your Gran?"

 

 


	3. Part Three

 They clamber into a taxi that hurtles over when Gemma waves for it. When they're seated comfortably against the lumpy seat, Gemma produces her phone and conjures the address that she reads to the driver. He smiles and says he'll take them there. "I'm not really sure," she says, though, to Moon. "I haven't been to their house in more than ten years. I'm assuming they still live there, since it's a spectacular house."

 "Where will we get the address if it's not the place?" Moon thinks out loud with a frown.

 "I can text Lottie. Though, it'll seem a bit suspicious."

"Lottie?" Moon gazes at her aunt, who's busy fiddling through the contacts on her phone. The name sounded like a toffee to her.

"It's actually Charlotte, but Lottie's a nickname. She's Louis's sister," Gemma supplies with a half smile. "Which means, your aunt. She's nice, you'll like her. She even worked a few years in incognito at Harry's fashion label."

"You still talk to them?"

"Only Lottie, and we meet up once an year at tops. I'm more close to her than the others. I still feel squeamish when I have had to talk to your Gran. Suppose that's your father's fault," her aunt answers nonchalantly, peering at the developed town through her window.

"There are more than one?"

"You thought there would be only your dad and grandmother to meet? Of course, not!" Gemma snorts, oblivious to the latter's sharp intake of breath. "The Tomlinson's are always in a pack, huge family they are. And, Jay is a saint, honestly. Louis has six siblings, in which there are two sets of twins, I don't even know how she popped them out! It's a wonder you don't have a twin right now, actually, you know with the genes and all." She pauses as to realise that she dropped a hint and also Moon's relative silence. "Are you nervous, Moon? Because you shouldn't be, they're all wonderful people."

Instead of answering her, Moon decides to ask her something else. "You said something about matching tattoos, didn't you?" This concept, she found strange.

"Oh, yes," Gemma sits up, arduously. She seems to enjoying the fact that she talk about Moon's fathers with restriction anymore. Maybe it's all the years of suppression that are leading up to bursting it all out after bottling. "They weren't subtle with any of that."

"Why does everyone say that? That they aren't subtle?"

"Because they weren't." She begins to recite a list of complimentary tattoos; rope and anchor, ship and compass, lock and key, mermaid and lighthouse and a number of other things that Moon cannot keep count of. She did know that Harry was littered in tattoos back then, but they were all blurry lines of grey and black that dissipated with time and he never answered when she asked him why he hadn't gotten them redone. They were over his chest and stomach and completely covering his left arm. She couldn't fathom much from them; a figure of birds and a butterfly could be made out in the front. His arm's were so minute they had merged in with his skin like their trace had always been there. They have as much as she could remember.

Soon, the driver is glancing at them from the corner of his eye, signalling to them that they arrived at their destination. The tension that evaporated from Moon's bones was suddenly back. Gemma pays the man and slides an arm around her shoulder and guides her down the street with a mouthful of reassuring words.

"This is the one," Gemma murmurs once they're across a particular house with a sprawling lawn. Her eyes light up with recognition, and a reminiscent smile adorned her lips that quirked down on one side. With all the courage they could pluck out from inside themselves, they stride from the concrete pavement to the doorstep before working the door knocker. Thank goodness there was no intercom. Her gran must be an old-fashioned person. Moon wonders if her dad is the same too.

Before she can thoroughly develop the thought, the door is being swung open, revealing a man a head taller than her. His eyes skim over Moon's and then glance at Gemma with a quizzical expression. He had to be her father. Blue eyes, sandy blonde hair, thin lips. It's like all the DNA matched up with a click in her head.

Except. This man was quite young to be her father.

His face still had traces of boyishness and juvenility stuck to them. His button nose wrinkled and his thin eyebrows scrunched together as he called out inside. "Mum," he hollers, eyes still training on them, before speaking to them in a mellow voice. "May I help you?"

"You're Ernie- Ernest," Gemma snaps her fingers and her eyes widen.

"Erm," the man hesitates. "That does happen to be my name."

"God, you've gotten so big! You were a wee little baby when I last saw you. You fit in my arms so easily and you loved pulling hair. I mean-" Moon's aunt cuts herself across and quickly pastes on a diplomatic expression. "Actually, could you see if your mum is there? She's not expecting us, but I reckon she'll like this surprise."

As if on cue, a woman sashays her way to the door, scowling at her supposed son, before her eyes drop to Moon's. It's definitely her grandmother. The resemblance is kind of detectable. She's raising an eyebrow, and that's living proof; only Moon raises her eyebrow like that. With an end sloping down towards her nose. She glances confusedly at Moon before she looks up. "Gemma," she cries, freezing in her place.

"Long time, hasn't it been, Jay?" Gemma answers ironically. When she doesn't earn a reply quickly, she continues. "I wanted to talk to you. I know it's been a while, but this is important. Hopefully, you'll let me resume inside."

"Oh, I know you!" The man called Ernest pops in.

Johannah tells him to keep quiet, but stands aside to let the both of them in. She passes Moon a undecipherable look, but keeps mum. She leads both of them into the lounge before calling out to someone called 'Dory' to make tea. A woman of long brown hair saunters by, catching only a glimpse of them before she disappears into the kitchen.

"Gemma, why are you here?" She asks once silence settles on them like a suffocating blanket. They're seated on the loveseat across Johannah, facing a rather sceptical expression that makes them sweat.

Gemma sighs, leaning forward and crossing her legs and supporting her elbow on them. "You know I'm not one for arriving unexpectedly, but let's just say circumstances have led up this and I don't know what will happen, but I'm willing to communicate with you however you want me to."

Johannah, although, didn't understand. Hell, even Moon didn't understand, but she can tell that the frequency level of their nervousness is mutually high. Instead, her grandma glances at the youngest in the room. "And, who may this be?"

Moon stares up at her aunt, heart thundering in her chest as she swallows nervously. Gemma shoots her an uneasy smile and faces the other woman as it melts off her face. This was the moment. It was the part where all hell would break loose. If this woman knew, consider the whole secret to out just like that. There's a pregnant pause, before Gemma clears her throat. "She's your granddaughter."

Johannah looks almost scandalised as it was some sort of accusation that it makes Moon feel like she's a mistake. She purses her lips, eyebrows crumpling together before her pinched mouth utters out words. "You cannot come into this house and speak whatever you want. I have all the right to make you leave. Don't overstay your welcome."

And, that. That was something Moon had expected, although she hadn't expected what she expected to become true. It was so jarring, it hit her in the face with a gust of wind and the remnants of her heart fells into her stomach while drumming fiercely. Her throat turned bone dry and it felt like only her tears could quench it's thirst. She speaks up, small and hardly audible. "She's right, though. You are my grandmother." She pauses, "just like I'm Louis Tomlinson's daughter."

Right on cue, the woman named Dory comes in with a tray of tea and biscuits. She places it on the table with a smile cast at the guests. "My," Gemma says softly. "Doris, you've gotten quite big."

The woman continues to smile, only dubiously. "Go to your room, dear. And take your brother with you, I know he's by the stairs- trying to listen to what we're saying." As soon as she says that, there's a yell of defeat from what is the staircase and Doris walks away. Once, a door is heard slamming upstairs, Johannah glares at them. "What blasphemy is this? Louis doesn't have a child. He certainly doesn't have one that's been hiding out for years."

"Louis doesn't," Gemma agrees. "But, Harry does."

"Your name is Shelby?" She addresses the youngest.

"Oh God," Moon mutters under her breath, later smoothing her voice out louder. "No, that would be my incognito name. So, that media doesn't tail me, Pappa says."

Johannah still looks conflicted, eyes switching between both of them. "If you're Harry's daughter, then, why would you be my granddaughter?" She catches herself, seeming to have caught on. "Wait. Is it because they're-"

"No, no, Jay," Gemma cuts across as if she doesn't want something to come. It is that way, since Moon probably isn't probably mature or old enough to understand-- or that's what everyone assumes. She gestures between both of them with suppressed incredulity. "Look at her, she's a photocopy of Louis. Tell you don't think so."

"I knew there was something familiar about her face," Johannah muses.

"There you go, some proof," Gemma supplies. "I have her birth certificate. She's Harry's."

"She's Harry's, but she looks like Louis," Johannah also concludes. "Whatever you're trying to convey, it's not reaching me. If this is a prank, you don't even want to think about what you want me to do."

Gemma stands up, eyes lingering on her niece before she flicks her head towards the older woman. She slowly strides forward, voice barely above a murmur. "Jay, maybe you and I could discuss this in another room. I'll explain everything to you. I'll answer all your questions. Really."

Johannah seems hesitant, but a moment later she's standing up and scampering out of the room with the other woman in tow. Moon squeezes her hands together in her lap and anticipates their return with overshadowing doubt. Her heart has not once calmed down since they set foot in Doncaster, and she can only imagine what it would feel like to meet Louis. But, she pushes down her hopes before she can get them too high. Maybe her grandmother will come out and kick both of them out of the house and tell Louis about it and then, she'll be in trouble with Harry and be grounded forever.

The worst part isn't being grounded. It's not being able to gain Harry's trust again. Louis's side of family seeing her as an abomination. The list is endless is what it feels like.

"Whoa, calm down, will you?" The woman called Doris comes back into the room. Close up, she looks more like a girl than a woman. It's a possibility that they belong to the same age group. She places herself in Johannah's previously place. "I can hear you thinking from all the way upstairs." When Moon doesn't reply, she continues speaking after a round of scrutiny. A shout is heard from another room. "What's your name, love?"

"Moon," she mutters out, not looking up from her lap.

"Moon. Nice name." Doris smiles so welcomingly that it makes her want to spill everything on her mind and cry on her shoulder if she needs to, but she balls up in her place to refrain from doing so. "Mum gets angry quite quick and she cools down quick, you don't really have to worry. But, I heard a little bit of your conversation and it's seemed like you said... that you were Louis's daughter?" Moon still doesn't answer, but she can hear the sound of talking and shouting from the other room. "Well, in that case," Doris laughs. "I would've been your aunt, then. Funny, isn't it?" Moon almost looks up in shock. The girl who only looks a few years older than her would be her aunt, which meant she'd already met her father's sister. "Now, tell me. Is this a joke?"

She does look up this time though. "I'm not joking," she answers dryly. "I really am not. I am his daughter."

"Yeah, right-"

The door bursts open from somewhere and Johannah staggers into the lounge with wild eyes, when they land on Moon, she punctuates her feet and nods her over. Moon tentatively scampers up and saunters over slowly, before her grandmother reaches out and squeezes her into a hug when she's close enough. "Oh, my, I'm sorry. I do have a granddaughter. Good Lord. I do and she's here and I've missed out on her life so much and blimey, I'm so sorry," she mumbles as tears fall into Moon's hair.

Moon is so happy that her heart that was already beating in a frenzy wanted to jump out of her chest and make a run for it. She breaths in the scent of buttered scones and detergent before she pulls back, arms still looped around her, with a face splitting grin. "Here I am, Gran."

Johannah still looks hysterical, though as she glances between Gemma and her own granddaughter. It's like a secret was shining in her face like tears that slipped out, and Moon didn't want to know what it was. "I know, and I'm so sorry for saying what I said. I- really- I hadn't know. If I did..."

"It's alright," Gemma soothes from behind them. "Now, you know and you'll have to help Moonie with Louis."

"Dear God," Johannah gasps as she brushes the girl's hair away from her face. "Your father doesn't know. I reckon you already have a plan formulated about that. Till then, I'm going to keep you all to myself and I'll make you our famous mince pies and macaroons and you can meet all your aunts and uncles. You have two grandfathers, though. Both of which are away right now, but you'll meet them soon. But, you've met Ernest and Doris, right?"

"Mum," Doris speaks up with eyes that might pop out of their sockets. They had forgotten she was right there. "What in bleeding hell is going on?"

"This is your youngest aunt, Doris, but of course, you don't need to call her that, she's only three years older than you. You can call her Dory. Ernest!" She hollers, hands still not stopping to touch Moon to fathom if she was really there or even if she still did exist. The man -boy- from earlier comes down, eyes scanning over all the havoc. "And, this is her twin brother Ernest. You can call him Ernie."

"Mum!"

Gemma, who's snickering slowing inched into boisterous laughter she glancing at all of them with knowing eyes. "And I present you," she utters dramatically. "Moon Styles, daughter of Louis Tomlinson."

"Wait, what?" Ernest bursts out.

"Is this for real?" Doris trills, mouth pinching together.

"It very much is," Johannah explains lackadaisically. "Now, you two will keep your mouth shut and not tell your brother until I tell you to. I will tell you all details later, right now, please just make her feel welcome, will you?"

Instead of pestering their mother with more breaking questions, the twins share a look before Ernest steps forward with his hand out. "I'm Ernest. And it's nice to meet you, Moon. Nice to have a thirteen year old niece. Also, when you go to see your father, give him a punch in the gut from me. Because I'm not five years old anymore, but he still likes to play hide and seek with anything."

Moon laughs raucously, sounding unlike herself. But, she feels better than she did before. Relief seeps into her system like it's infiltrating through his light words. "Will do," she vows light-heartedly.

"Make that from both of us," Doris adds, smiling sheepishly. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you. But, even now, I need explanations because I don't really know what in bloody hell is going on?" She pointedly glances at her mother before pasting on a smile.

"Jesus, I will tell you," Johannah promises warily. "But, not yet. I've only made a fresh batch of scones. C'mon Moonie dear, you'll have to tell me how they are. Ernie and Dory have them so much, they've gotten accustomed to them. I could use a little new appreciation now."

All five of them sit at the breakfast bar, passing a new round of scalding hot tea and scones and muffins between them with overlapping words that have been overdue for more than ten years. Moon can't help but pause in her conversation with Ernest and Doris to catch the laughter between her Gran and Gemma and thinks, why did she miss it all? Why did she not deserve to have all this love from the beginning?

"So, who else is part of the Tomlinson family?" she asks instead.

The twins exchange looks and they seem like they always do it. "Oh, no," Ernest answers. "We're the Deakins. Mum's ex-husband was a Tomlinson. But, yeah, our father is on a business trip, you'll probably be able to see him next time to pay a visit. But, you have plenty of other aunts too. Luckily, I'm the only uncle you have."

"I've heard that there's more than you two, tell me about the others!" Moon ventures to demand, sitting up straighter with her chin cradled in her palms.

"There's Charlotte, she'll like it better if you called her Aunt Lottie. She has a son that you'll hopefully meet later. And Fizzy, that's short for Felicite and she's currently pregnant right now, she's also engaged. Daisy and Phoebe- they're twins like us. They've been out of uni for a few years now," Doris states, ticking them off her fingers.

"That means seven of you," Moon gasps.

"Jay was pretty strong, I'd say," Gemma says with a grin, patting the said woman's hand next to her.

"I am," she agrees.

Moon contemplates whether or not she should make a sly comment or smoothly slip in about her father. She plasters on an award winning smile that stretches out her cheeks and crinkles her eyes. "You are great, Gran," she says, feeling warm when the said person appears to revel at the title. "Your children are pretty great too. You'll have to let me meet all of them." Immediately, there's an awkward silence hanging in the air. All of them wear confused expressions that it makes Moon second guess her own mouth, she should've just bit her tongue and kept quiet. She looks down at her lap and pinches her mouth together.

 "That wasn't as subtle as you thought it was," Jay explains drily, ending the intimidating silence coolly. She sighs like it's been a long day; which is correct. "Ernie, go get your laptop. We'll see if there's any impulsive air tickets to London."

 

 ---

 That's exactly how they find themselves in a seat in a Bullet, that they opted for instead of an aeroplane around two hours later. The whole clan (even Ernest and Doris begged to come because who wants to miss a love fest?) set off at one in the afternoon back to the station that Gemma and Moon had earlier emerged out of.

If the earlier doubt wasn't enough, the new idea of her aunts not being able to accept her was a new fear she had to leap over. She wonders if it'll be any easier finally seeing Louis, but she'll probably be immune to fear by that time. Besides, it'll all be totally worth it in the end. At least, she can assume it will be. Optimism and all that.

They all get into Gemma's car, doors unlocking with a flash of it's headlights like it's been awaiting their arrival. Gemma in the driver's seat, Johannah next to her and the other three squeezing and elbowing each other in the back. Moon has to sit between the twins before they throttle each other to death. She's only happy that she's much more mature than her supposed aunt and uncle.

As Johannah instructs the way, the car and jerks and manoeuvres through the thick traffic like it's going through a waterfall of maple syrup and Moon's nerves aren't doing a good job. Her gran has already offered a bit of lemon candy to stop the not-related-to-the-car nausea, but she's sure that the knot in her stomach won't go with a little refreshment. After an hour on the road, a predictable headache and a few awkward silences later, they're pulling into a parking spot in front of a large apartment building in a quiet street where the shouts from the city seem like whispers.

Doris pulls her out of the seat before she can even clamber and holds her up on her jelly legs. Both her aunt and uncle felt like people she could rely on and the plus point; they'd understand because they were closer to her age. She should find a tiny bit queer, but she doesn't.

"We're going Fizzy's, right now," Johannah clatters as they pack into the lift. For someone who's a grandmother, she's got quite the jumpiness whereas Moon's feet seemed to be glued to the floor that she didn't want to move from. "I called up all the girl and pretended to panic and they all assembled here, maybe. That's what Phoebe said."

"That's one of the twins," Ernest replies.

"Shut up," Doris hisses, elbowing him for the umpteenth time. "We've already been over the family tree four times on the way, I don't need you describing the structure of Daisy's teeth to distinguish her from Phoebe, again!"

The two of them begin bickering once again and nobody does anything to stop them, because honestly, they're tired. The lift doors open with a tiny chime and Johannah parades forward to the third flat on the right. "This is it," she points out before pressing a finger to the intercom. The door automatically swings open on command, revealing four woman sitting in front a muted telly. Two of them who are morphologically the same are seated next to each other, adjacent to a frail one with an enormous belly and the fourth one's back is to them.

"Are you pregnant again?" One of the twins blurts out, probably as a ritualistic greeting.

Johannah frowns, lines running deep into her forehead. "Why must you all assume I'm immediately pregnant whenever I call you all up?"

"Because what other big news can be there?" The other twin says, adding with a snort, "also, have you seen the lot of us? When we're all out together, people point at us and advice their friends about family planning."

"I can't handle a kid and another sibling of the same age, Mum," Words scurry out of the enormous-bellied one. She pats her stomach with concern twisting at her mouth and shimmering dark circles under her eyes. She must be Fizzy.

"Oh, for the love of-" Johannah starts and gathers herself. "You all know I've hit my menopause, quit mocking me."

"Ew," Ernest enunciates beside her.

"You shut up, you plonker," Fizzy snaps, eyes fleeting over to her brother, a hand raising an accusatory finger to him. Her mood changed from tired to vehement in a surprising fast time."Your fate was with five sisters and you'll have to bear with it. Either that, you're be a newbie with bearing your wife."

"Why isn't Lottie getting up," Doris asks, being the first to walk into the flat without invitation. She grins when she's faced the person in the chair. "She's dozed off. Oh look, she's drooling." She reaches out to rouse her, tapping her profusely on the arm. "Lottie. Get up. Lottie. Charlotte. Lotts. Lottie!"

The woman jumps up, her long brown hair swaying behind her back. She doesn't turn around yet, fists coming up to rub at her eyes. "I was having a power nap," she mutters and there's something familiar about that voice.

Johannah and Ernest walk in next, leaving Gemma and Moon -who were behind them- standing at the doorway as if they were naked and the wind was feeling them up. When Fizzy glances up, her eyes are as wide as saucers. "Gemma," she gasps.

"That's why we're here," Johannah mutters. The older twins seems confused before their minds jog up to them and their eyes turn like Fizzy's. All of them are glued to the sofa, frozen limbs.

The fourth woman however yawns lackadaisically and slowly gyrates, a pair of shocking blue eyes meeting Gemma's. She isn't very surprised as compared to the others but her jaw drops when she sees Moon. "Moon?"

Moon's own eyes bulge out of their sockets. She's seen the woman before. It doesn't strike her immediately, but is a tiny prick at the back of her head until a late light bulb goes off. The same hip length hair, and concerned wrinkles on her forehead. "Elizabeth?"

Gemma scrunches her nose at both of them. "You both know each other?"

"We met on the plane here. I was coming back from LA," Lottie supplies, eyes not inching away.

Moon sputters, taken aback as she blinks. "You're my Aunt Lottie?"

"I mean, of course, I couldn't tell you my real name, y'know? It would have been insane and all. So, I told you my middle name. Obviously," she cuts across herself, eyes piercing more. "What did you just say? I'm your aunt?"

"Behold," Doris mutters, watching the scene unfold.

"Mum, what is going on?" Fizzy watches with jaded eyes, lips pinching into a white distressed line. "It's too early in the morning for this. And, seriously, this baby's tiring me out and draining out all the energy I need to think with."

"Right," Johannah sighs. She gestures at the youngest in the room. "I recently -only today morning- found out that I have a granddaughter. Here, she is. Which also means you all are aunts."

There is a deafening silence hanging in the air that punches Moon's gut and she can hear the blood humming in her ears just like she can feel the dryness of a desert in her mouth. One of the twins starts laughing, making all of them look at her with perplexed expressions. "Good joke, Mum. Really good joke. You almost got us there. But, April's already done and you're a bit late. Because, yeah, why would your long lost granddaughter just show up out of nowhere on this fateful day? It's almost funny because she's almost as old as Dory, probably a school friend of hers. And, oh, look. You've even brought back Gemma to involve her in it. Excellent. Brilliant, I must say."

"I don't think it's a joke, Daisy," Lottie concludes after a while, eyes switching between all of the newcomers. "Seriously, Mum. Don't keep all of us in the dark, here."

To everyone's surprise, Gemma speaks up for the first time. "This is Harry's daughter, Moon. None of us are joking and you don't see us laughing either. If you want to believe it, you can. If you don't, it's not a problem, we're going to Louis anyway."

Daisy and Phoebe, who are thankfully distinguished by now, are stood up- exchange glances, then, simultaneously look down at a still seated Fizzy, who continues to look resigned. "Harry's daughter? Shelby?"

"Oh God, I'm done with this Shelby nonsense! The tabloids are wrong. It's just a cover up. For goodness sake, it's Moon Joanne Styles!" She bursts out abruptly, startling everybody into glowering at her. At the attention, her cheeks burn beet red as she mutters out an apology.

"Is she also Louis's daughter because he's-" Phoebe starts to ask.

"No," Gemma and Johannah clamor out at once. Moon couldn't understand why everyone seemed to ask the same question, but never finished it because they never got to. Or at least, Gemma didn't allow them to do so, and now, even her gran. She wanted to know what they meant, she wanted someone to finish that sentence so her curiosity would be content with itself. But, there were bigger issues to attend to at the moment.

"Jay," Gemma calls after another minute of confused silence. "Why don't you take all of them inside, even Doris and Ernest, and tell them. They deserve an explanation that overdue for thirteen years. You're good at convincing." As per instruction, Johannah lets out a stretched sigh before gathering them and leading them into the kitchen just like Gemma had done in the morning. Moon had never wanted to be in a kitchen more than she was at that moment, but she knew she would only get to know with time, from her own father's mouth.

Moon and Gemma sit down tentatively in the loveseat, trying to catch onto the slightly loud words from the murmurs from inside. "We'll have to explain to a lot of people, don't we?" Moon pops in, peering dubiously at her aunt, with a wry mouth.

Gemma's expression is serene, not quite smiling, but the corners of her mouth go up like quivering waves. "A lot," she agrees. "Maybe even the whole world, considering, your fathers are famous. But I will explain anything I can to as many people as I can. I have no problem." There are a couple of amused shouts coming from the kitchen, probably from spilling the beans (the metaphorical ones, of course). "I'm not taking any side because I'm all up for justice. You deserve to know and so do everybody else. You've been hidden away and you're old enough to be questioning now, and that's given me a good push. Even if it means going against my brother."

Moon feels overwhelmed, the tangibility of it taking over her chest as it hurts in the sweetest way. The heat of her tears emerge from her eyes. She rests her forehead on the latter's shoulder, sniffling faintly. "I don't know how to thank you, Auntie. You didn't have to do this, you know, but you did. I feel like everything will fall into place and I don't think I can thank you enough."

"Certainly not, sweetheart," Gemma says gingerly, cupping her face and brings it up to look her in the eye. "You're my niece. You're like my daughter. Whatever you want, you'll get it. And, as your aunt and godparent, I'm ready to go till the end of earth for you. I'm very sure your Uncle Niall would too. We love you so much." She continues breezily after she dabs a kiss on Moon's forehead, "besides, it's all you. Planning and execution. I'm only in the sidelines, supporting you."

"Thank you."

However, her aunt still looked conflicted. "Just. Just don't expect your parents to go back to each other and pounce into each other's arms, okay? It's just- we thought they would. We really did. But, one year became two and two became three and nothing seemed to happen. We stopped hoping."

Moon shakes her head. "I never-"

"I'm so daft," another voice announces, when they both look up, Lottie has staggered into the room with glassy eyes. "I literally met my niece on an aeroplane, and I couldn't tell even with the similarities between us. And I remember thinking I was so fortunate that I fated to sit next to a girl who entertained me on a boring ride, the entire time and I couldn't tell," her sad smile tips lower and she sighs, holding her arms out just a little. "Now that you know, won't you come and give your barmy aunt a hug?"

A grin melts onto Moon's face like butter as she springs up and falls into arms that are bound to be soon familiar. When she pulls away from the warmth, Lottie is smiling slightly. "I wouldn't have anyone else for a niece. You proved that you were awesome after two hours of talking to me." Moon doesn't say anything, the joy inside her reflecting on her face. "Speaking of which... the aunt that you spoke of back then was supposed to be Gemma," she sneaks a glance at the older woman, who's wearing a similar smile, "and you also mentioned you fought with your father. Which means Harry..."

Gemma's said smile cleans itself up. "What? Moonie, you didn't tell me!"

She flashes them an edgy grimace. "Oops?"

"Hi," the both say in unison , exchanging knowing glances.

"Um-" before she can question anything, the whole clan come bouldering back into the room. The younger twins rush out, proclaiming that they finally understood. Johannah comes out with a look of triumph written across her face, letting out a long sigh of relief. Fizzy and Daisy make their way slowly, before the younger one helps Fizzy sit down. Before she can look for Phoebe, two arms quickly tug her into a suffocating embrace. "I'm sorry we didn't understand," Phoebe says softly into her ear. "I wish we had known earlier, we'd all have been there. I'm so glad I know now. I have somebody to spoil rotten, now."

 "Thanks, Aunt Pheebs," she answers confidently after being released. "That really means a lot. I wish I had known you lot before too. Things would have been better."

However, her twin isn't as pleased as her, Daisy remained in her place by the pregnant woman, glaring daggers at them. Her grip on the arm of the dpfa seems painful. Then, eyes flicker to Gemma. "You," she snarls. "You knew the entire time and you come to tell us, now?"

Wow. There Moon was, assuming she'd won the lottery ticket after Lottie had locked her in her arms. Oh well.

"You knew all these years and you didn't think about telling us once! Louis doesn't know, but if he does, he'll...he'll be livid! He'll stop talking to us when he finds out we knew before him. How could you hide such a thing?! She's a person! She's his daughter! He'll blow up when he gets to know you kept her away. From him."

Gemma opens her mouth to protest, but pauses minutely before speaking. "If the same thing happened with your brother and he didn't want you to tell Harry about it because he thought he messed up, would you come tell us? If Louis asked -no, begged- not to tell us because he felt like he had nothing to lose and that a child was his only hope, would you?" At the words, Daisy fell quiet, but the intensity of her scowl doesn't simmer down. "Exactly, you wouldn't. And, if you ask me, you would have taken your brother's side just like I've taken mine. Louis was my brother, and still is if he'd let me call him that. But, I can't help but put Harry first. I'm not here to reveal this because I have to; I'm not obligated to. If you were have an explanation, you'd have years later when Moon's all grown up and the matter comes out accidentally. Harry owes you an explanation, as far as anybody's concerned. Don't have a go at me. I'm here for Moon because she asked and I felt that it was my chance at being a better aunt."

"Daisy," Johannah warns, cutting across to stop the soliloquy from severing. "We all know how it was all those years ago. How your brother was and...and how he became. I know you didn't understand back then, but, now you do. Right, we have absolutely no faith that they'll be like how they were once. Hell, it was bad times back then, and it isn't a good time now, either. But, I'm letting myself expect that they can at least stand in the room without wanting to jump off a rooftop. And, it's all because of this." She sighs again, like it's one thing she's foreordained to do for the day. "After watching it all, I don't think any of us are going to fight for anything. Our family made another with theirs, and it was torn apart as well. We've all just. We've given up, and I'm very sure we'd want nothing but to make peace with each other."

Daisy apparently, doesn't know what to utter, so, she stomps into a bedroom.

"Ignore her. Trust me, I've known her since she was born, and she's a menace, now, come sit with me," Fizzy encourages, patting the place next to her on the sofa.

Moon hesitantly makes her way there and sits on the edge as if she's getting ready to run for it. "D-Do you. Do you have something like that to say as well?" She asks timidly, the melancholy of the earlier scene catching up with her throat.

"No, no, doll. Of course not," Fizzy says airily, peering at her with melting eyes as she brushes a lock of hair behind Moon's ear. "I'm very glad I've gotten to hear from you. You're the eldest cousin to our kids and I can't believe we missed out on it all. And, it's not your fault, and it never will be. But, thank you for wanting to meet us. I still am going to kick Harry's ar-"

"Don't let the baby hear it," Doris quips in.

"Okay, but, I will kill Harry for keeping you away." She pauses to sniffle, brushing her fingers under her eyes. "I'm sorry, for getting emotional. It's, ugh, it's all these hormones... Once everything settles down and Louis finds out, we'll go shopping, okay? You, me and Lottie. We'll have a girl's spa day. How's that sound?"

Moon can't tell the moment her eyes start welling up. "Sounds wonderful. I don't think I've done that with anyone. No one's ever proposed such a thing."

"Then, we'll be the first to do it, alright?" She snakes an arm around Moon's shoulder and hugs her against her side, the other hand protectively over her belly.

Right after, all of them curl up on the sofa, going through the photo album in Gemma's touchscreen which consisted of all of Moon's baby pictures, which was quite embarrassing since the heat in her cheeks refused to die down. Ernest had gotten bored due to the lack of drama and had gone out get himself some ice-cream. Meanwhile, Lottie had shown her son's picture, who had turned five just a few months ago. Then, Phoebe and Doris began competing on who was the better in their boyfriends which had ended in quite the frenzy. Jay just sat in a chair, shaking her head at them, despite an unshielded smile.

From the corner of her eye, Moon could fathom Daisy coming out of the room, slowly inching into their conversation till she was sat on an arm and laughed at something one of them said. But no one said anything, just proceeded with the conversation without regard to her grotesque addition. When it was time to leave, Daisy had surprisingly slung an arm around the youngest's shoulders. "I'm sorry for reacting so badly," she shrugs sheepishly. "Louis's always been protective of me, and I've learnt to be the same with him. I realized I was being stupid. It's not your fault and it's fantastic knowing you're my niece, because you have a blooming good sense of humour." With a skittish smile and a wink, she moves away to offer compensation to Gemma.

Moon grins to herself. If her life was an adventure that she was destined for, she didn't want it to end. The fear, the adrenaline, the mystery. Especially, the promise of love at the end.

\---

_("But, Mum, what about Lottie?"_

_"She's still in LA, love."_

_"I thought she was back?"_

_"N-No. It extended. She's going to be there for a while. Besides, she has Owen to take care of."_

_"What about-"_

_"Fizzy is too pregnant to do anything. Phoebe and Daisy live in the crammed place of all. They couldn't have her. Seriously, Louis, I'm not sending you on the dangerous quest. All you have to do is take care of a grown girl who's parents let her come to London for a few exquisite art classes. You can handle that much, you're a grown man."_

_"But, a responsibility of a child?"_

_"Lou, her parents know me. They trust my decisions and I trust you. Her grandmother -my second cousin- was there, you know? She helped me throughout my pregnancy. If you're a healthy boy right now, it's all because of her. She's done so much-"_

_"Erm, mum. Don't go into the details. Okay. I get it... After all, how much is a child?"_

_"That's my son.")_

\---

"Sooooooo. I'm going to wait here. If he sees me, he'll jump ten feet up into the air," Gemma says coolly, though the furrow in her eyebrows when she glances at the other two, says otherwise.

They leave Ernest and Doris at Fizzy's flat to drive to Louis's. Gemma drives while Johannah instructs. Moon sits in the backseat, trying not to hyperventilate over the new update their doing to their mission. She's going to meet her father for the first time, and every time she repeats the sentence in her head, the nerves and excitement fight inside to win. She's thought about it so many times that she has a slideshow of events that her imagination conjured up, in her mind's eye. She welcomes the fear with open arms, and all she can think is about it'll all end. Will Louis look the same as on TV? Will he take her in once he knows she's his daughter? Will Harry ever forgive her? Will they both even negotiate?

"Yeah, we got this," Moon answers, voice wobbly.

Gemma scans her for a second. "It's alright to have nerves. That's how I felt when I met my stepdad. And, I didn't want to be anything short of perfect for the man my mum wanted to marry. But, one thing. No goofy stuff. Don't do anything you'll regret. Hold that tongue. You don't think before you speak most of the time. Also, call me every two days. I'll make Phoebe or Daisy send you your clothes by tomorrow. Understood?"

Moon rolls her eyes indulgently. "Okay, mum."

"And, call Harry from time to time, or he'll get worried. Eat food on time. I've looked up some art classes already on the train today morning. You'll attend them every Tuesday, Thursday and Friday as per the registration I sent in online. For proof and for you to learn something new-" she stops rambling, sighing. "Be a good girl, Moonie. I'm counting on you. I don't know what you're going to do, but I'm very sure you can charm him easily. But, just, do it as fast as you can."

Moon clambers out of the car, coming to stand next to her aunt outside. She leans in through the open window and pecks her aunt on the cheek. "Don't worry so much, Auntie Gems. I'll be fine and I can take care of myself." She turns to Johannah. "You coming, Gran?"

Johannah laughs to herself. "I don't think I'll ever get over you calling me that," she trembles but, drops out of the car to join their steps towards the tall apartment building that was tight with security just like Zayn and Liam's. They had asked for a fingerprint scan and ID proof.

Before going in through the glass doors, Moon turns around to wave a goodbye to he aunt who's perusing with tense eyes. But, her perturbed face smoothens out with a smile as she flashes a thumbs up. _Best of luck_ , she mouths.

As the lift ascends to the fourteenth floor, Moon can feel herself shake against the wall of it. Johannah smiles down to her. "It'll be alright, darling, trust me, you'll love him. And when he finds out, he'll love you too."

Moon couldn't answer. Her mouth felt sown shut with an invisible needle and thread that intimated to be made of dismay and anxiety. She didn't how much of it was true, she could only hope. As she's struggling to get a reply out, the lift opens to no corridor, but a singular door in front of them. Johannah steps forward to speak to the intercom. When after a few seconds, the door swings open, Moon can tell it's not automatic, but a person was standing on the other side.

When a face comes into view, Moon thinks she might die with the drumming of her heart throughout her body.

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Part Four

Moon thanks all the powers in heaven for not letting Louis Tomlinson have a maid. Because she'd have missed the golden moment of directly seeing him if another person had come to kill her vibe.

He didn't look like he did on television. There was no makeup concealing his flaws. The wrinkled forehead, pointed nose, probing eyes of cornflower and the pearly smile were all the same. But, the dark circles under his eyes and natural smile made him seem more human than celestial debris. His sideburns were sewn with grey hair and the corners of his mouth twitched unsteadily. His tan was starting to embed in with age and sat on the low bridge of his nose were a pair of black thick rimmed spectacles, which he slid up with a venous hand. He didn't look like anything Moon believed. But, then, again, she never trusted anything. "Mum," he gasps- voice raspy and barrels forward to crush his frail mother in a tight embrace.

"Its your fault you don't visit as often you claim you want to," she mutters as its an argument she's gotten used to initiating. "Then, you wouldn't miss me so much."

Moon felt as though she was interrupting a private moment. Sure, she was officially a part of the family, but it felt new to her. She's bound to when she's only met her other extended family not even twelve hours ago, certainly, it is new to her and it will be for a while. Hopefully, if she doesn't resume her time in the States anytime in the very near future. She's managed to make something out of her meeting with her new aunts, but there's still time to see how the cards play out. The next time she meets up with them will be at least a tad awkward. She won't be as close to her Gran as she is to her Grandmumma. She certainly would need time to get used to all the abrupt alterations she was doing to her life. Sure, they led her on a path of many twists and turns, but it hurt to think of the beyond. She didn't even want to think of the arrangement her fathers would make when they both are equally aware of her existence as their daughter. Would she have to switch between London and Los Angeles frequently? How would they share her if Louis wanted anything to do with her at all? She'd have to spend the rest of her life roaming like a nomad, just to satisfy both parent's wish.

Louis pulls away from his mother, the corners of his eyes pleating as he smiles compassionately at Moon. "And you must be the little one that Mum told me about."

She felt like stars darted in front of her closed eyelids every time she owlishly blinked. He had acknowledged her. As an individual. The words don't dislodge themselves from her throat easily. "Y-Yes, sir. I'm Moon St-Smith. Very nice to meet you," she manages to stutter out.

"Moon? Is that really your name?" One of his curved eyebrows cock up with precision. She was nowhere as collected as him, and possibility of being his daughter seemed like a lie.

Johannah swats him on the shoulder. "Be nice, Lou."

Moon's face burnt unpleasantly with embarrassment prickling under her skin. "Yes. You see, my parents were, err, very creative."

"I mean no harm, love," Louis answers sweetly, smiling again in a way that made her doubt if it was all actually real or if she was dreaming again. Well, she had been dreaming about for a while, now. "It's a unique name. Come in you both. Don't mind me manners."

Johannah grasps her elbow and pulls her in, as if she's aware that Moon's feet are glued to the floor like her eyes to her father. It's a simple interior. The walls are a rich blend of mustard and red. The sofa looks comfortable enough to be a bed and the windows are lined with peached coloured lace curtains that demand to be touched. A flat screen is hung opposite to the sofa set that was playing a movie she'd never seen before. The floor was a dark marble that made the weather colder than it already was and it stopped right at the foot of a staircase which spiralled up artistically.

"Can I offer you some tea?" His voice rang out, breaking her out of her reverie. When she looks up, he's switching quizzical gazes between her Gran and her. "I went down to the apartment bakery today morning, so, there might be a few blueberry muffins left. Or, I'll tell you what. It's a bit past lunch time, we could go out."

"Thanks, darling," Johannah pats his cheeks with a wrinkled hand, the other one clutching a purse. "But, the taxi's waiting downstairs." She glances at Moon slyly. Both of them know _taxi_ is another name for Gemma or the others waiting for news back at Fizzy's. "I'll have to get going. Plus, God knows I can't digest all that grease you make me eat."

Louis looks cross for a second, but quickly recovers. Like, he understood his mother's need of always having to go back home and guard. "Stay for a little while, won't you? I'll drop you off later if I have to."

"No, love, I have to get going," she answers sympathetically. "It's a Sunday and the twins will be calling soon to send me to the stationer's for project supplies. You know they'd have left all their homework for a Sunday evening. I have to start planning their lunches for the whole week. Also, I have to check up on Fizzy, don't I? She's about to pop in the month and she's been crying about the back aches for a while. She begged me to get those tiny bottles of eucalyptus oil that I've always had. So, I'll have to go there. And before you say you want to drop me, I cannot afford to get papped with you again, thanks."

He seems disappointed. "Alright, then," he says lowly after a moment. "Call me when you reach home and give Fizzy and the twins my love. I'll drop by for tea sometime soon, 'kay?"

"You do that, Lou. Doors are always open, you know that," she leans in and plants a wet kiss on his cheek. She turns to Moon with concerned eyes before she gathers her into her arms. Moon's beginning to get accustomed to it. "Take care, okay? I know you can bring him out of his shell and I know you want to spend some time with him, but, you have to careful. He catches onto things very easily. Try to break it to him as quickly and gently as you can. And, don't worry about anything. Gemma will cover it with Harry and if you feel like you're stuck you have my number as well as all of your aunts'. You can talk to anyone and they'll be happy to help you out, even Ernest. Alright?" Before Moon can answer or break away her grip, her grandmother is pulling away, smiling tensely at both of them. "I'll be off, then. Don't want to keep the cabbie waiting for too long." She waves her fingers as goodbye before sliding out the door. "Bye, Lou, Moonie!"

"See you, Mum," Louis calls out after the tacking of her heels starts fading away. He flips to the only other person in the room. His gaze makes her feel attacked. "So, Moon, insert middle name, Smith."

She doesn't think when she says it. "It's Harry."

He jerks his head like he's taken aback. She notes that it's the first sign of weakness, and that both her fathers were living on memories. "Sorry?"

"Moon Harry Smith."

"Harry?" Louis asks incredulously, eyeing her. "Is that really your middle name? Harry. Not that I'm into gender norms and all, but really?"

"It's H-A-R-R-I-E." she spells out as she steps aside to toe her shoes off. Lies seem to be pouring out of his mouth like falls of honey. "Told you my parents were creative."

Louis hums contemplatively, scanning her face. "Alright, then. I'd have to agree to that. Now, how about I show you your bedroom and you can freshen up? You must be tired. Even half-an-hour in London traffic makes me yawn."

"Sounds good."

"Okay," he claps his hands together. "I'll lead you to it. Come along now," he strides forward to mount the staircase faster than she expects him to. "I forgot to ask, but, where is your luggage? You're going to be staying here for a couple of weeks and I don't think only a pair of clothes would suffice. But, certainly, I do have a washing machine, if you're so concerned."

"Aunt Phoebe said she'll drop by later to bring it," she answers patiently, feet slapping against the stairs. Another lie pushes itself out of her mouth. "I left my bag in Doncaster."

"You seem awfully close to my sisters and mum, eh?" Louis narrows his eyes at her one they've reached the top. "My mum's hugging you and calling you nicknames and with you calling me sister 'aunt' and all. Jesus, _Aunt_ Phoebe."

"Well," she speaks out airily, her voice an octave higher. The guilt starts settling in her when she keeps count of all the lies she's said the minute she set foot into the household. She doubts that it'll stop until something truthful will intervene. Her blasting name was also a lie. "My parents are quite busy this summer, so, they dropped me off at Gran's but, she wasn't feeling all that great, so your mum and sisters took me to theirs. Made me feel like I was at home. I'm quite comfortable around them now, and I don't mind calling them aunt or uncle."

Louis frowns lightly, walking into a lit up bedroom. "I don't suppose you'll address me the same?"

"I'd rather not, sir. Wouldn't want you to feel uncomfortable. Besides, I like calling you 'sir' and nothing. My parents have raised me well, you see, despite their innovatively quirky naming skills." She doesn't want to say that the prospect of calling him her uncle would make it awkward when she'd have to call him her father at some point.

"I'd say that," Louis promises, then, turning to gesture to the room. It's complimentary to the living room, with baby blue and lavender walls and a few stencils of birds on the ceiling. In the middle is a four poster bed that's twinned with a grand teak wood drawer, and a thick velvet rug under it's feet. "So, this here, is your bedroom. I would've given you the bedroom downstairs since the kitchen is nearby, but the flooring makes it cold, and this one's carpeted. It's quite hot in the States, isn't it? You won't be accustomed to the freezing cold. If it's too cold, do tell me. I'm sure I can provide you with an extra quilt-" he cuts across himself, flipping his head to glance at her. "This is good enough, I hope?"

"It's more than enough," she replies breathily, peering up at him with the best smile she could muster up. "I don't know how to thank you enough."

"You can start by coming out for pizza with me. I know a good place, and I don't know about you, but I'm _famished_ ," he emphasizes by rubbing his slightly protruding belly as he walks out. "Don't keep me waiting for long, Sun."

"It's Moon," she calls out with a laugh, the second he leaves.

"Same thing," he calls back, voice smiling.

 

\---

Forty five minutes later, they're sitting at a nice cosy little pizza parlour that intimated to having mini sofas instead of chairs. The smiling waiters waltzes around them gracefully, sliding pans onto their dinner mats and leave privacy to them. On her second slice of a sweetcorn-jalapeño pizza, she feels the satisfaction of her stomach seep into her brain. It was only a matter of few minutes and she'd be lulled into a peaceful slumber. She hadn't gotten sleep from the day before due to nerves and it was getting to her. She had finished with her jetlag only a few days ago, but the current affair was keeping her up too.

"So, Star," Louis starts off, starting her from her half-asleep state.

"Moon," she corrects. It was still overwhelming to call the person in front of her- her father. Much less, thinking about how he was teasing her like he always knew her. If only.

"Don't interrupt me," he harrumphs. "Now, I don't know a thing about you and I'm letting you stay at me place. What if you rob me of my diamond studded tea-set and run away?"

"You have a diamond studded tea-set? One that you drink from?"

"That isn't the point, Moon. The point is that I need to know you since we'll be encountering each other often for the next few weeks. Whatever shall we do?" He gasps dramatically, drawing a easy smile out of her after a harmless eye roll. "Do tell me about yourself."

"Well, you know my name already," she supplies. The pause in between is enough to make her think of something to say. She thinks of Jesse, linking her story to his. "I live in Avalon. It's a very small town in California and is unheard of. My dad has a winery and I spend most of the time home, crushing the grapes with my feet. Otherwise, I'll be in a residential school. Right now, we have summer vacation, although schools here don't. But, I like it here."

"Excellent. You sound very English, though. It's an accent I can't quite place," Louis muses between bites of his food. "There are a few words of yours that have a bit of an American accent. Which one of them are you?"

"A bit of both, actually," she answers confidently, the layout of her lie formed out clearly in her head. Her speech is delivered perfectly. "My dad is from Minnesota and my mum is originally from Brighton. But, I talk to Gran and Mum so much that I've latched onto talking like this, but also a bit like Dad since I've been raised there. When I come back here, my English accent comes back." She adds a moment later, "plus, it gets me all the guys."

Louis laughs brashly at that. "You keep the accent going because you get attention from males."

"Not just any males," she says. "The attractive ones."

"How old are you?" He asks incredulously, it sounds rhetorical.

"Thirteen."

Louis frowns solemnly. "If I was your father, I'd kill that thought before it even formed in your head."

"My dad already does that, though," she sighs. "Any boy does as much as look at me, he'll exile them to the other side of town with just his eyes. It's a bit tiring, to be honest. He says I'm not allowed a boyfriend till I'm forty years old- not that I'm interested right now. But, what else are fathers for if they aren't protective? He still doesn't let Jesse into the house sometimes."

"And your father is actually right, love. No boyfriends till the age of forty," Louis agrees. "And, who's this Jesse?"

"He's my best friend," she answers in a clipped tone. She didn't want to think about him, though. She missed the stupid scar on his chin and the tan on the sides of his face and his stupid smile and his even stupider (alluring) scent. It wasn't a crush exactly, that she felt the need to grab onto his hand and skip past a dozen clouds. Perhaps, she could see him again, if the cards played out right. She would be torn between the two places that her fathers belonged to. If Harry wasn't willing, she'd have to go back to Avalon without so much of a blink of an eye towards England or she'd have to move to London by fighting with him and never see another set of dimples combined with green eyes. "But, enough about me, tell me about yourself? You just said it; we'll be seeing each other often and I'll have to know more about you."

"You're strangely close to my family, you must know everything about me. They must have told you," Louis shrugs, mouth twisting.

"Oh, they just briefed me. They said I ought to listen from the man who's lived the story himself," she answers confidently, though she'd blatantly lying. She hasn't found the time to ask about her dad when she had so many others to meet. She earns a hum in return. "You're Louis Tomlinson, past member of One Direction and you're currently a judge on X Factor. That's all I know; I'm sorry I didn't read your Wikipedia page before coming."

"I'll forgive you just this once," he plays along, chuckling under his breath. "To be honest, I suppose, no matter what I do or move to another country and change my name to Vivacio, people will still see me as 'that lad from that old boy-band'- it never just fades away. I do a lot of things other than pose as an ex-boy-band-member, you know?"

"So, what else do you do?"

"I'm a busy man," Louis shrugs again, picking at the straw in his coke. "I am a judge on X Factor, but I also own a record label with my ex-band-mate Liam and I also own the Doncaster Rovers. I sometimes used to play with them, till... I crossed the age limit. But, I'm taking a bit of time off. Life goes at shutter speed, doesn't it? It's good to slow down sometimes and just look around. Right now, I'm free, hence, I'm sitting here. X Factor isn't until November and I only have to check up on the label via the internet since my assistant is there to inform me, no biggie. Sort of like a part time retirement every year."

"Are you saying you're tired of it all?!" She gasps incredulously. "Everybody would kill to have a life like yours, sir! I don't think you can ever get used to it." She's speaking from experience, of course. Countless people have come up to Harry for pictures or autographs and there have been circumstances where she'd have to move away immediately until they left or he'd have to lie that she was a fan too. They didn't theorise much, since teenagers didn't listen to old indie-rock-pop anymore; so, not many conspiracy theories, just a few that Harry could easily pay off. When the cameras of the press visited them, he'd be quick to whip off his coat and blanket it over her so that it even veiled her face as he led her into a secluded area. He practically made half her school sign non-disclosure agreements for her identity. Harry cared so much, and she felt guilty to think that it wasn't enough. She shouldn't want Louis too, but she can't help it. And, it doesn't make her gratitude diminish in the slightest. She doesn't think she could bear having her face strewn across the papers.

"I've given you the watered down version, Moon. There's so much more, definitely. You'll never get used to it, hell, I've been in the industry for about twenty years and I'm not used to it," he sighs wistfully. "The tabloids make it seem easy, hooking us up with models and flashing pictures of us at parties, but it really isn't that way. It's much more complicated and I don't think anyone will ever understand it."

"Is it really that hard?" she asks in a tiny voice, solemn tone.

Louis just peers at her for a long moment before bursting out laughing. It's not condescending, but she doesn't understand what it. She simply hides her frown into a bite of her food.

Later, they're entering the flat with a gust of wind accompanying them with chattering teeth and chapped lips. It's a bit towards the evening, but every time of the day in London seems to look the same. They're shrugging off their coats, when Moon speaks up. "Do you want a spot of tea? I could make it."

"I could use some tea," Louis says. "It's nippy outside, innit? But, I'll make it."

However, Moon crosses the room to saunter into the kitchen. "I insist. It's the least I can do for your hospitality," she supplies, opening several cabinet before making a noise of affirmation when she finds a tiny steel kettle.

"I don't let anybody make my tea," Louis argues, beginning to walk into the kitchen before he stops in his steps upon meeting her glare. He slowly backs away, muttering. "Or, I could let you do it this one time. Broadening my horizons and all that."

She hums, busying herself with checking all the shelves for tea bags. Surprisingly, she finds four kinds. Earl Grey, Yorkshire, Peach-Apricot and Chocolate. It doesn't even seem that surprising because Louis was a typical Englishman who had his tea promptly, and probably more than required if possible. Maybe blood doesn't flow in his veins; tea does. Maybe he was made of tea-cells. Maybe he didn't have haemoglobin, instead- caffeine. She giggles to herself at the thought.

"What's funny?" He calls out from the living room.

"Nothing," she ends her laughter with a shaky breath. "You have four kinds of teas."

"And proud."

"I bet you are," she murmurs as she flicks the stove off and lifting the kettle off and up till the water ribbons out of the spout and into the two porcelain mugs, steam floating up around her to pipe around her face. She plops in two teabags in both of them, adding milk and sugar as per requirement before walking to the living room with the more balance she can keep. Louis stands up from his place to quickly take one from her like he doesn't want her to burn herself. But, he proceeds to look dubiously at it. "Go on," she encourages, "I don't think you'll be disappointed?"

"What if I am?" He challenges her, simpering. She scoffs, raising an eyebrow daringly. His gaze doesn't move from hers as he takes a tentative sip. His cheeks suction in and his head darts back as if he's appalled. "How did you know," he demands. Ladies and gentlemen, the combination was correct.

"Hmm...let's see," she says, tapping a finger on her chin, in faux thoughtfulness. "You drink Yorkshire. All the other tea you own were bought a little over a month ago, but the manufacturing date to one of them was very recent. Which means you drink it frequently, thus, buy it frequently. Seeing your affinity towards tea, your milk pitcher should be half-empty by now, but it isn't. But, it also isn't full, either. You pour in just a tad so that your tea isn't transparent. Your sugar bowl is sitting in your tea-tray untouched. Just messed a little with a spoon. You don't take it with your tea, because it isn't touched much. Although, your mother does. Am I right?"

When she looks back at him, his jaw has dropped like it's momentarily lost it's hinge- an expression somewhere between amusement and scandalised. "Absolutely right, Moon," he replies, just the corner of his mouth moving slowly. "Thank you, Sherlock Holmes."

She smiles in delight and takes a satisfied sip of her own tea, the taste of chocolate exploding in her mouth from being so dry. "You're welcome. I've gotten approval, haven't I?"

"Indeed," he agrees without hesitance.

As if on cue, the doorbell rings, startling her. A familiar voice answers the intercom and Louis places his mug on the tea-table and strides to the door to open it. It reveals a smiling Phoebe (or Daisy, Moon can't tell yet yet). When her eyes fall on Moon, she smiles wider. "Moonie, how are you settling in?"

"You haven't seen your brother in a month, Daisy," Louis squawks indignantly.

She continues to make a show of ignoring him and whisks in towards the sofa and plops herself down next to Moon, arm bridging out over the latter's shoulders as she braces her feet next to Louis's tea mug. Moon takes it as complete endorsement of their official aunt-niece relationship. Hopefully, there won't be any "No, really. How is it here?"

"Get out of me house!" Louis yells.

"Erm, I'm alright, Mr. Tomlinson has been great with everything. Quite friendly and he entertains a good sense of humour," she says with ardour, cheeks pink with the specific attention she was receiving. Though she's scared that Daisy might jump her because of a certain incident a few hours ago, she remains unshaking. It's time for her to put those things behind her, innit? Besides, she's already apologised earlier and things were cool.

"That's good, he should be treating you right," Daisy quips with a nod.

"And you should be treating your brother right," Louis supplies, his exasperation slowly inching into a smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips which he hid reluctantly. "Come here and give me a hug, you twit."

Daisy rolls her eyes, but nonetheless standing up and making her way there to give him what he asked for. He makes a job of ruffling up her hair, at which she glowers at him, but he laughs delightfully. "I hate you."

"Love you too," he answers with an eye-puckering smile. "As much as I do, I can't help but ask what you're doing here."

"It's not like I wanted to come, you loner. But, I came to give Moon her luggage."

Louis must suspect something, because his eye twitches and his lips purse. "Already? I thought it'll be a while."

However, Daisy seems to catch on, as she jumps into an action of flourish. She tries even if it sounds a bit dramatic. "I think I might be having a memory problem, I can't quite remember where I left it."

Moon giggles, jumping up. "By the door, most probably," she answers with a wobbly smile. She strides out the door, stopping by her stroller and unzipping it. Gemma seems to have thrown all her clothes into it in a tumble and sent it with Daisy. But, she spends a second more, taking in a breath she didn't know she forgot to take while she was inside.

When she strolls in with her bag in tow, Louis is animatedly explaining something to his sister, expression leaking amusement and good opinion. "She knew how I liked my tea, Dais! I haven't told her and she literally deduced everything out of the kitchen and made me a perfect cuppa. Amazing, isn't she?"

Phoebe doesn't answer, but smirks from the corner of her eye. Half an hour later, when she's leaving, she bends down to whisper in Moon's ear. "I won't tell him that your Gran was the one who told you how he liked his tea, relax." If Moon was sporting red cheeks for the next ten minutes, she couldn't answer why.

\---

_There was a bit of time before dressing up like they're supposed to and running down to soundcheck. They're supposed to be practicing their songs, but at some point, singing the same thing recurringly was tiring them out, on the verge of getting on their nerves. They would break up in the succession of an year anyways and fall into the steps of a sedimentary lifestyle. But, hoping for things like that were just floating dreams that were unattended to. They had to keep up appearances, run away from the cameras, run away from finding themselves. If they were ever drugged and thrown out of their minds, the lyrics would still hang from their tongues._

_Harry found himself roaming out of his disturbingly quiet hotel room and through the carpetted corridors. He'd probably go to Niall's room since Liam wasn't at his own. He was going wazzack with isolation. The hiatus was a boon, and it certainly did him good- but, perhaps he had gotten used to it a little too much. He had an excuse to miss Louis and cope with it. He learned how to get used to missing him. Between the movie shooting, song recording, modelling and all the new additions and problems, he had fit the time to do it. It was only a dull ache now that didn't throb in dedication when his name was mentioned._

_Their team had booked the whole floor for privacy, though only two rooms were being used. The four of them could be the loudest and weirdest and nobody could complain, but of course, they were done with doing all their shenanigans years ago. Maybe growing up was as horrible as it once seemed. He knocked on the other door, a clatter of laughter answered him, which meant even Liam was there. His face contorted into a puzzled one before the door flew open to reveal a dishevelled Niall, tired eyes and mouth quirked down in an unmistakable smile. A look of exhaustion adorned his young face almost proudly. Maybe it overwhelmed him as much as it did Harry. Both of them clearly wanted to be someplace else. "Was expecting you, Haz, c'mon in," he said as if he was obliged to, though the latter was already pushing his way past._

_The moment he walks in, his throat racks with violent coughs. The air around them was diluted with smoke, thinning the atmosphere into a sleepy fog. By the footboard of the bed, the duvet was spread out on the floor and on it are Liam and Louis, mouth full of giggles and the said smoke, legs splayed put and cigarette tucked between their fingers with poise. "Wha-" he rasped out. "How much have you been smoking?"_

_"Just half a pack," Liam a answered nonchalantly. "The balcony doors are closed. It's why it's like this."_

_"You shouldn't. It isn't good for you," Harry replies softly to him, eyes adamant on not drifting to his ex. He does mean to tell him indirectly, but he's lost that right a while ago._

_"This gig isn't doing any good to us, and we haven't been complaining for the last few years, have we?" Louis said sardonically, lips looping to blow out a perfect smoke ring. It was the first thing they've made conversation in a few days, and somehow Louis made it seem like its all Harry's fault the way the world is._

_Niall however, appeared to have understood the tension infiltrating into the room. He laughed nervously. "Good thing you're here, H. I thought I was going to lose it if I heard Liam say 'he's pretty and I miss him' one more time!"_

_"Hey!" Liam protested, eyebrows dancing on his forehead. "You won't understand. You don't have someone you have to wait weeks to come home to!"_

_Before Harry could snort in response, Niall's phone began chiming in his pocket. When he pulls it out, the enlightenment on his face ironically -and indirectly- answers Liam's question. In the blink of an eye, Niall was on his feet, accepting the call with a cheery greeting. At least, he tried for Harry._

_"That boy's been on the phone a lot, lately- since we've begun touring again. Funny, innit? You think he's gotten himself a girlfriend in the last two years?" Louis croaked out. "Look at that, will you? Our little Nialler is growing up! Only, I don't get it. Why is he keeping it? He knows we'll be happy for him."_

_"It's an intimate thing. He obviously wants it to stand, so he's giving it a proper chance before making official," Harry supplied, even though he knew the truth. There was nothing about a girlfriend or about making it official._

_"Dunno. The poor girl will just have to suffer with his fame," Louis grits out bitterly. "But, good on him. He's getting more action than I am."_

_Harry took a few seconds to catch his drift. Once he did, his head hung and his toes looked quite interesting, than anything else in the room. Perhaps he should have let it go. It had been two years and he was still hanging on. Louis had left it behind him and proceeded to making poisonous remarks when Harry was in the room. He wished he had the will power to do that, or maybe the power to endure without wanting to feel like crying. It wasn't like he could go back, anyways. He'd done the damage without letting the other say anything and now he was paying for it._

_"Louis," Liam chided softly next to him._

_Before Louis could make a further hysterical statement, Niall came skipping back into the room. Harry wanted to buy that boy a Lamborghini for his timing. Sometimes, they were awful, but this this he was saved from getting stuck in a situation he didn't even want to dream about. Niall's cheeks were a bit like apples and his thirty two flashed out. He stretched his arm with the phone, out to Harry. "She wants to talk to you. She's says that she's been crying," even as he said the news, he didn't stop grinning._

_Harry snatched the phone from the latter's grip and strode out of the room before he could hear another snarky comment from his ex and a inquisitive look from Liam. He kicked open the balcony doors and the wind almost knocked him down from how giddy he was with happiness. He stumbled to sit down in a wicker chair against the railing and pressed the phone to his ear eagerly. "Hello?" With just a word uttered out of his mouth, he could sense his own excitement building up._

_"Harry, how you been, you barmpot?" Bria chirped into the receiver. "How's tour? And Louis? How are you handling it with him? Do you miss me? Don't miss me too much. Niall already does and he says my ego reaching the size of a mountain."_

_He wanted her to cut the crap and give the phone to his daughter. Sure, he was grateful that Bria took good care of her, despite being in one of the worst conditions, but he hadn't heard her voice in so long. The schedule didn't let him and nor did the lack of privacy. But, he decided to be a gentelman. "I'm fine, Cambria. Niall has told you how it is, hasn't he? It's hectic and all. I'm sorry I couldn't call."_

_"No apologies, Harrison. Tell me, how is it going with Tomlinson? He pestering you?" She pushed, her tone humourous. "I'm your personal diary that sasses you back. You gotta fill me in."_

_"Not doing that well, Bria. It's been awkward as hell and he won't stop trying to make me feel bad. Maybe he doesn't know he's doing it. He was never one to do that, y'know? But, I'll manage. It's just the matter of an year and we'll be back to our own lives," he sighed. "Speaking of which... how are you doing? Are you getting better? I've been calling up your doctor every week, but he only tells me minimum details. I can't tell how you feel, though."_

_"I'm fine, I think," she answered him dubiously. "With it being back, it's been a menace. I'm tired most of the time and my friend Janice comes over to help me out sometimes. She loves kids so much she'd rather hang out with me than go clubbing and don't worry, I haven't told her about you. Even Gemma drops by every few days and Anne came by around two weeks ago, she told me not to tell you though," she huffed out a laugh. "I... I've been sitting down a lot. Can't stand for more than ten minutes though." She sighed long sufferingly. "I don't think I'm that well, Harry. I don't know. I get so cold like I used to back then. Just, please don't tell Niall. You know how he is. He'll throw a fit and then scream till he can't sing anymore."_

_It was a thing to keep away from Niall. He couldn't know. If he found out, only the both of them knew what would happen. But, Harry didn't know how long he'd have to keep things to himself until they started building up. For one, he hasn't been telling Niall about the weekly doctor calls which sound more resigned every time. Bria simply calls him up and talks her way cheerily into him, and Niall just assumes everything is alright. "I will. But, you have to talk to him. Sooner or later."_

_"I will," she promised, then, there was a bit of static, and Bria was calling out to somebody. "She's come back from her walk with Janice. Do you wanna talk to her? It's the only time left, she'll be sleeping in a few minutes, I'm sure you can squeeze in a few words- sing her a song if you can. She's been asking for you and she's been crying, Harry." She asked him softly to which he nodded profusely even though she can't hear him, his throat ran dry when he remembered her.But, she got the message and passed the phone over._

_"Pappa?" A tiny voice babbled out._

_"Moonie, pumpkin," he choked out, swallowing a sob. "I miss you so much, love."_

_It elicited a loud giggle out of her, and tears blurred his vision. "Pappa! Pappa! Miss you too! You okay?"_

_"I'm fine, love. Thank you for asking," he sniffled._

_"Coming home?"_

_"No, Moonie. Not soon. I'll try though, okay? I'll make it back to my girl."_

_"Okay," there was audible disappointment in her voice he wished he never heard, as if she was talking with a pouting mouth. "I is missing you."_

_"Miss you too," he pursed his lips, sniffling once again. "What are you doing?"_

_"Bria making me cheese mac. Yum," she said excitedly._

_"That's wonderful, sweets. Will you save me some?" It made his daughter laugh again, and he had though he could manage to go another week without wanting to die- just from the sound of it. It made him flutter his eyes and more tears built up, but he looked up at the ceiling and ensured they didn't flow out. Being a father made him more emotional than ever. And missing Moon had been a torture he wouldn't wish on anybody._

_With the content ending of a phone call, Harry grinned at the blank phone screen as he cut the call. When he turned around, a pair of angry blue eyes meet his for a brief second before Louis scurries away- leaving in a rush. Harry's feet were glued to the ground, he just hoped he hadn't made a wrong impression on him. There were things building up between them and if this one was another one, it was small and it wouldn't matter. But, it did. Every single thing did._

\---

They fall into a routine. A routine Moon isn't used to, but would love to get accustomed to.

Louis takes her to her art classes, familiarising himself with the teacher easily under the role of her guardian. It's only a bit bitter when he introduces himself as her uncle, but the affection hardly ever wavers. She makes him tea and his smile doesn't rumple up the entire morning. He's polite- something the media didn't like to describe him as. The only thing she doesn't like is the occasional smoke he goes for outside, later swallowing a couple of breath-mints to cover up, but she doesn't point it out. She can only appreciate his need to keep the matter away from her supposedly juvenile eyes.

He lets her make supper sometimes, only after she's claimed that he isn't labouring her. In turn, she says that he can send his cook on a little vacation as long as she's was there, because she loves cooking and it's something she's better at than art that she's doing surprisingly well at the classes. They stick to watching _Doctor Who_ and consuming fruit salad with honey. When they're particularly lazy, there's a man bearing pizza is at the front door. That or Indian.

With being starstruck from the attention her father was showering on her, she's completely forgotten about her other one. She never has her phone when Harry calls and when she does, it's when Louis is around. Either it's too late to call him back or she finds herself slacking it. Gemma calls her to warn her than she can't make anymore excuses ("I've been telling him you were in the bathroom every time, Moonie. He might think you're constipated, now!") but, she stops caring only just for a while. Pappa and his overbearing protectiveness.

She's been introduced to Owen, Lottie's son and has even gotten closer to the rest of her aunts that it makes Gemma jealous. She's finally gotten what she wished for- a large family. But, she doesn't quite forget the others. Uncle Mike- Granddad Rob's son comes to visit her one time, during her art class, and slips out before Louis arrives.

Right now, she was occupying half the kitchen with her mixing bowl and ingredients. She's sure victory will be hers.

"How much more time will it take?" Fizzy hollers from the dining area.

"Your brother is the one taking so much time on the stove. I'm done, I just need to cook it over a flame!" she shouts back, tilting her bent head towards the left to catch a glimpse of her father. He's breaking into a sweat, arm shaking as it stirs a ladle into a saucepot that puffs out humidifying vapour.

"You're the one who challenged me." Louis hisses at her, hand raising to wipe his brow. But, he immediately turns off the stove and heaves the pot onto the platform with a grunt, almost burning his fingers. With a reluctantly hid smirk, Moon moves her paraphernalia to the previously preoccupied place.

So, it happens to be that Moon and Louis had been arguing about breakfast like peckish idiots in the morning and Fizzy had come over and joined them in expectation of recieving a bit of breakfast. She was on her maternity leave and was constantly bored at home, and needed someone by her at all times for certain needs or eloquently put, someone to slave around while she had the excuse of being pregnant.

Like the dramatic twit she was, Fizzy stopped them from fighting, but pushed them into a cooking competition that she hosted impromptu. Louis was to cook something American and Moon; something English. She was benefitted, of course, since she could in turn have something to eat, and was no particularly opposed to trying something when the baby wanted it. But, all she did was sit at the dining table and holler and complain about how they were taking too much time. Perks of carrying.

Moon quickly sets to work, placing a fryer on the heated up stove and waiting till the oil began to bubble from boiling. She worked faster than her father; dipping her fillet in a thick batter and dropping it into the scalding hot oil. With that, she had chopped up a few potatoes and let them soak in salt water, but those joined the fryer as well. While Louis was dying over his own saucepot, she made it quick by setting up two plates of food and threw the kitchen towel on the ground in triumph. "I won the first round, sir! We'll just have to see who's is better in taste!"

Louis scoffs, eyes tipping back in faux annoyance. "Slow and steady always gets it right."

"I'm pretty sure it's 'slow and steady wins the race', innit?"

"Precisely," Louis says with a grin that shines of mirth. He ladles his dish out into two china bowls and places them in a velvet covered tray and sashays into the dining area like a whirlwind. She plops it down on the table with flourish. "Voila," he gestures wildly at it. "There you go, my master piece."

Fizzy looks inquisitively at it before matching her gaze to her brother's. "And, what is it, exactly?"

Louis huffs. "The insult, the horror," he mutters dramatically. "It's chili con carne. The food Americans eat when they have bad teeth. I'm appalled you don't know what it is."

"My bad," she answers, albeit not sounding very apologetic. "Moonie?"

As if on cue, Moon whisks into the room with them, two plates held up by the flat of her palms and slides them elegantly next to the bowls of chili. Steam raises off all of them, coming up to mix around them. Moon swipes away a bit of sweat on her brow and smiles exultantly. "Not much, but I tried," she breaths out.

Fizzy's face lights up in delight. "This, I can tell easily," she points out. "Fish and chips. Can't wait for it."

"How original," Louis quips.

"Shut it," Fizzy snaps. "I will be the judge of this. And so will the baby. No one else will intervene." She sniffs and reaches for Moon's delicacy, tearing a bit of the fish off and chewing it analysingly, as well as the chips. "Hmm... it's good. You could tone it down with the salt though. For the young one, you've outdown yourself, so congratulations, darling," she suggests in a critically posh tone that makes Moon want to laugh. She even flicks her nails in the same way.

Fizzy then, moves to Louis's dish, scooping out some chili with a tablespoon and blowing on it long enough before popping it on her mouth. The minute it's inside, her eye bulge out of their sockets and she sputters and drops the spoon before a group of coughs hack themselves out of her. Moon reflexively reaches for the jug of water in the middle of the table and overturned glass, and handing it to her aunt after it's been filled. "Calm down, now," she says in panic.

When both of them look up at Louis, he's frowning apologetically.

Fizzy's own lips twitch with an upcoming smile. "The spice is overdone, Brother Dearest. And, so is your lack of modesty."

Louis passes her a long look before proclaiming, " Oh, c'mon! A man makes mistakes."

"Not really. It's been one times too many," Fizzy sighs long sufferingly. "Just admit you can't cook properly. It takes you months to perfect something which is the reason you have a crappy cook and now that Moon is here, she's helping you make things and you look healthier. You know she's better than you. Admit it."

"I make a mean cheese toastie!" Louis protests, eyebrows slanting into his nose.

"You mean slam a cheese slice between two pieces of bread and press them in a sandwich maker?"

"You're insulting me, Fizz. We have guests," he warns her. "You don't want to get on my nerves. I'm only putting up with you because you're up the duff."

"Ooh, look at Louis Tomlinson all high and mighty," Fizzy says saucily. "You're only that in front of the cameras. But, you're nothing but a wimp in front of the women in your family. Ha. Besides, I was born to insult you. Everyone agrees."

"Hey! That-"

Before it can escalate into an actual argument of scornful words, Moon steps in between them literally and shares a glare between both of them. "That's enough now. Mr. Tomlinson and I are fine at cooking. It isn't even a big deal, so could you both find your chill?! God!" When they open their mouths to argue some more, she beats them to it. "Seriously, how old are you?"

"Seven and a half," Louis retorts the same time Fizzy squeaks out a 'three'. Then, they look at each other for moment before they burst out laughing together. Moon is left stuck, trying to understand their dynamic.

They're still laughing by the time the exasperation starts leaking into her face. "Alright, now!" She exclaims, "Enough, you little babies!"

Fizzy continues to giggle, punctuating every breath with it, blatantly out of breath as she massages her stomach. "Little one is kicking again," she pants out.

"They're showing you to your place," Louis concludes haughtily.

"I'll show you yours," she mutters darkly at him. "You don't know how to cook anything, big brother. The occasional tea and everything might add in, but nothing extravagant. You don't know how to make a roast, and the only meat that you succeed with is chicken. Shame on you!" She huffs out another difficult laugh, meeting eyes with her niece in a kind of telepathic manner. "You're only good at making chicken stuffed with mozzarella wrapped in parma ham with a side of homemade mash."

That must mean something, because Moon sees a flash of pain in her father's eyes. "That's a low blow, Fizz," he murmurs, before replacing his growing frown with a convincing smile, and leans over to poke her in the ribs. She yelps out in surprise and he grins wider, taking the oppurtunity to torture a little bit more. In a minute, Fizzy is squirming in her seat, unable to shield herself, screaming an apology when she can. Later, she mouths 'look it up' to Moon, and curiosity could never be a worse thing.

Instead of giving it more thought, Moon persuades Louis that he really did his best and went ahead to teach him how to make buttermilk pancakes that Fizzy has a mountain of before leaving. In the end, all three of them got what they wanted; quality father-daughter time, proof that he can cook and food for two hungry mouths. irrespectively.

In the evening, a while after their tea time, Louis is perusing through his daily rut of emails and she sneaks into her bedroom and camps on the mattress with her flatscreen and phone. When she looks up the said dish, it's nothing but an ordinary culinary piece, but when she searches 'Louis Tomlinson' next to it, she gets a couple of links to a few old pixelated interviews with the same thing over and over again. Her father claimed it was the most romantic thing he had ever done; cook a meal and proceeded to explain it with a few exuberant hand gestures that occured in all of the videos. Judging by the look Harry was trying to hide in all of them, it was for him.

She is so engrossed in watching their faces that she almost falls off the bed when Louis calls for her.

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Part Five

 It happens at the most unnecessarily in the moment. Moon had tried her hand at a vegetable sautée in the morning while Louis read out the news to her from his bundle in the sofa. She hummed to herself, whipping the eggs and keeping an ear towards her father's reading. When Louis had set the table, the eggs came out alright; just a small need of salt and pepper that the table condiments could cover.

When the plate was half empty, Louis was explaining the intricate details to sound engineering and the aspects behind making a song, but they're interrupted by the shrill chime from Moon's pocket. She makes an embarrassed noise and struggles to pull it out. _Auntie Gemma_ flashes on the screen in an alarming green.

She grimaces at it, then glancing up to see her father's raised eyebrow. "No phones at the table," he chirps mockingly.

"Erm. I'm sorry. It's my mum," she bites out quickly before she catch hold of her tongue. "I'm going to get an earful. I haven't been answering her calls and I haven't been calling her back, either."

Louis shakes his head and gestures to her hand. "No, no. That's alright. Angry mums are the scariest. You should talk to her before she ends up at the door with an axe."

Moon laughs uncomfortably, scurrying out of her chair to go into the living room. But just to be safe, she wrenches the balcony doors open and falls against the railing before accepting the call. "Auntie! I was in the middle of something! You can't-" she hisses as the wind whips against her face.

"I understand that you're stuck in a little bubble with your new father, but sometimes you have to come out into the outside world too," her aunt harrumphs. "You came to visit me, remember? Just because I've sacrificed my time doesn't mean you take advantage and go along with it. It's your duty to pester me, and look at this; we're doing it the other way around."

Moon's mouth twists into a guilt frown that makes the inside of her chest wither. "I-I'm sorry," she manages to say. "I didn't know..."

"None of that now," Gemma warns unscathingly, her theatrical dialogue forgotten. "It's alright. Tell me how you've been doing. Do you need help? Because your other aunts are looking for an excuse to drop by. How's Louis? How are you? Most importantly, yes, how are you?"

She finds herself, thumbing over the cold metal railing and grinning unconsciously from ear to ear. "I'm brilliant, Auntie Gem. Dad is too. Am I allowed to call him that? I call him that in my head... he's nothing like how they show him on telly. He's nothing of what I expected. I thought he would be a boring old man, but he's the opposite. He's jovial, he treats me equally as an adult, he lets me cook whenever I want and he loves a good joke. Since the day I came, he's found my name funny and he teases me about it."

"That definitely sounds like the Louis Tomlinson that I used to know," Gemma agrees. "Oh, and I forgot, your grandmumma wants you to visit and I said I'll bring you in a week or so."

"Yeah, Uncle Mike came by a few days back and told me. But, how exactly are you going to take me? Like, what are you going to tell Dad?"

"I'll make Lottie or Phoebe pick you up and make them tell him that your gran wants to see you, but that isn't a foolproof plan, because he could want to tag along... or we could tell him that your Israeli aunt came on a business trip, but wants to spend some time with you while she's at it."

Moon giggles into the chilly morning air, pressing the reciever closer to her mouth. "And where exactly will you get me an Israeli aunt? I don't reckon you can get one at the next convinience store."

"I'll dress up, sweetheart. Put on a posh little fur coat and high heels that'll make me lose my balance twenty times in one step and I'll put on those shades that cover the whole of my face. It'll be perfect."

"You're not Israeli. Even a deaf man can tell that."

"Well, we are Jewish, though, if that works. I mean, Harry is more into it than I am-" she cuts across herself suddenly. "I told you to call him, you haven't yet, have you?"

It's yet another circumstance for Moon to be guilty. "...I'm sorry?"

Gemma sputters over the receiver, finally managing to exhale out infuriatedly. "You said you would manage him and if you won't be able to, the roof will come to ground. You know that. Need I remind you every single time?"

"Okay, okay, okay, okay," Moon diverts. "I'll call him, I swear. Today I will. I promise." Before her aunt can protest, there's a startling knock on the balcony door that makes her jump in her skin and the static in her ears buzz.

Louis peeks his head out, as if to ask permission, his head perked into a questioning gesture accompanied by a dubious smile. His hair still stuck down and veiled small parts of his eyebrows. "Could I speak to your mother for a bit, love? I want to get to know her. She is my cousin, isn't she?"

"I-Erm. What?"

"I'd like to talk to your mum, Moonie. If she's not busy."

Moon's heart starts rabbiting up to her throat as she peels the phone away from her ear. With a parched open mouth, she glances at her father and back at her cell phone which clearly displayed her aunt's name. There was a chance that Louis might recognise her aunt or perhaps, look at the phone screen. There was also a chance that Gemma messed up her acting, even though she could keep up a front most of the time. As she comes out of her reverie, she pushes her mobile phone into her father's held out hand and gives him a dry affirmation.

"What's her name, again?" He dares to ask.

"Ge-" Moon begins to say, but corrects herself. "Jenny. It's short for Jennifer, but she hates it when people call her by her full name."

"Alright," he pipes up, and places the phone by his ear without the slightest of glances at it. "Hello Jenny!"

On the other side, Gemma suffers a tiny aneurysm when she hears the voice. It's been years, but seems like only years ago, he had snatched the phone from Harry to chime in a greeting. Despite that, her eyes grow wide and her jaw drops like it's lost it's hinge. "L-Louis?"

"Oh, I don't remember you, but you seem to remember me, Jenny," the peppy voice accuses.

"Who would ever forget you? You were the life of the party," Gemma says fondly, her stutter evaporated into something like retirement. She knows she's not just speaking for the Jenny character that Moon probably conjured up, but also for herself. "We met at your mother's wedding that time. And, not again after that. Well, I later moved to LA the next year because of Moon's father."

"I'm sorry I don't recollect, but you must visit if you come by to London again. Your daughter is the best thirteen year old I've ever met, including my own sisters. I would love to meet you and your husband. Speaking of which, where is he?"

Her eyes flash upto a Roman Holiday remake on the telly. The old one with Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn was however a classic. "Erm, Gregory. Greg is sleeping, it's about the middle of the night for us, innit? But, I thought it would a sensible time to call Moonie."

"Right, right. So, I have to tell you. Your daughter is amazing, have I mentioned that?"

"You have," she laughs into the phone. "I'm starting to see it now. She's always running rampant 'round the house and it drives me absolutely crazy, but I miss it now. It's too silent, but she wanted a break from the Californian sun and she's getting it. What she wants, she gets, that's the way her father made sure."

"To be honest, I'm not surprised he thinks so. Do you want to talk to her? I bet she's missed her mum. I however, cannot fill that spot in even with all the mothering I tend to do."

"Yes, that would be lovely. I was midst interrogating her about her terrible habit of sleeping with her jeans on. Filthy habit." She pauses to laugh. "But, honestly, thanks for doing this, Louis. It means quite a lot that you're putting up with my monster and from what she tells me, she's having a great time. If you come to California, our doors are always open."

"No biggie at all, Jenny. You needn't worry about her. She's grown and she's taking care of herself, and I daresay- she's taking care of me too."

"It was great talking to you, Louis. It's a been a while. Please tell Moonie to call her father. I can manage without her, but he loves her to death and he's worried." She ends with a mellow note, referring to Harry. He was her actually her father even if she couldn't bring up his name.

"Certainly," Louis says politely, before he's holding out the phone to his daughter. Over the static, all Gemma can think is about her brother's reaction to the current situation.

\---

On the other end, Moon peers at Louis with fearful eyes, brows stiff as her hands quiver at her sides with only one thought on loop in her mind. At least, she could blame it on the wind. He's found out, he's found out, he's found out. Instead, her father looks surprised at her frizzled state. "Here, talk to your mum. She misses you," he says diffidently, "is anything wrong?"

With that statement, relief spreads throughout her body and her heart begins to came down with momentum as she takes the phone from his stretched out arm, smiling abatedly. "No, I'm fine." When she presses the device to her ear, there's the long beeping of the dialtone that greets her. She shrugs and slips the phone back into her pocket. "The lines must be bad again, call got cut. Honestly, I'm a bit happy, she would have broken into complaining about me."

"All mums are like that. Trust me. My own mother used to call my mates and tell them things I didn't want them to know and they'd use it against me. But, your mum isn't bad. She misses you in the house and she was complaining about how the house feels empty. The only concern she had was that she wanted you to talk your father. He was sleeping it seems, but she wants you to call back."

Moon notes that her aunt played along well, despite the shock she might've recieved. She hadn't exactly planned how she was going to tell Louis that she was daughter, but everybody seemed to be on board with it and she loved the fact that she had a family she didn't deserve. She was proving it by deserting her father. "The time zones aren't helping. Pappa's a busy man and Mum is working in one place in the moment and he's in another and I'm struggling to keep in touch with both of them. Mum always calls, she's mothering me. But, Pappa leaves it as it is. He expects me to call because he thinks I need space when I'm on vacation. On the inside, he expects me to call. He's a diva and so am I."

"But, Jenny said it like she and your father were in the same house."

Moon forces out a laugh. "Well, things that years of marriage can do to you," she explains.

Louis is reticent for a long minute, supporting himself against the balconey door. His head is bent low, nostril flaring as if he's trying to latch onto to the oxygen surrounding him. His hands clutch onto the door unsuccessfully. He looks like a man who's kicked down his walls for a split second. Only for a split second. Because Moon reaches out for his arm, and withdraws it before she can touch him. "Sir," she whispers. "Are you alright?"

 When Louis looks up, his eyes are glassy. He lets out a despondent laugh that gets caught in his throat on the way and he gives her an attempt of a smile. "Why, of course I'm alright. Just got a touch woozy." With no further explanation, he strides away and Moon has half a mind to follow him and demand an answer, but she stays put.

 ---

She takes to Wikipedia to ask anything.The dam was broken and she could take advantage of the internet to research about her new father and things she was kept from by her first father. She was kind of abusing the power, to be honest, but the gates had actually opened and there was no stupid guilt to hold him back.

One night, after the darkness had taken to the sky, she opened up her touchscreen to the lowest brightness and a browser, sat up against the headboard, knees to to her chest. She scrolls through their achievement columns and solo projects until she gets to their personal life column. Harry's states that he had dated a few old stars and a line saying 'I kiss who I want' which the websites had translated to 'queer'. At the end, it also said that he had adopted a five year old girl called Shelby in 2021. There's no doubt that it's her. There's a mention of him slamming lawsuits when they tried to take pictures of her- something about her father she was sometimes proud of.

On Louis's page, it's a tad different. There's a notice of a four year relationship with a model called Eleanor. Zayn and Liam had mentioned something about bearding; and that's what it looked a clear case to her. There's a tiny paragraph written about his mum, siblings and estranged father. But one thing that puzzled Moon was the fact that he had a baby a few months before her own birth- a boy who had apparently died from a dextrocardiac arrest after he turned one. Which meant he had a child before her and she couldn't ask about it just yet.

She ends up finding old abandoned Twitter handles, Tumblr dedicated-blogs and articles dated around ten years ago about something called 'Larry Stylinson' and it only takes her a few seconds to decipher that it's a portmanteau of her parents' names. The mentions are never ending. There are pictures of fond looks, subtle slip-ups, pixelated kisses, matching tattoos, quirky quotes and clues. Her fathers looked at each other with such longing that it made her question how things currently were. There was so much clarity in those low quality pictures. Sure, she admitted that seeing them at a much younger condition shocked her a little -they were fresh and naive- but their faces didn't match any love story she had previously known to be. Nobody could act out that sort of thing. This was different. It was overpoweringly real. It was intense.

But, she slams her touchscreen on the bed, pushes it under her pillow and calls it a day as she pulls the duvet over her head, vowing to never go to that side of the internet to disappoint herself. She closes her eyes and tries not to think about why they ended up the way they did. Separate.

\---

The very next day, however, holds horrors of it's own. Perhaps, it's a consequence of karma; she shouldn't have crossed the line yesterday. She wakes up to the terror of blood in the washroom (and thankfully none on the sheets) before her stomach makes itself known with a constant and rather pulverising pain that hits her the second she guides herself under the warm spray of the shower. She's learnt how to handle her laundry and extra toiletries, but the pain and annoyance doesn't get better with time. What timing, she thinks.

She pads downstairs softly, trying to ignore the irritation between her legs. Her back has already started aching, making her wince once she sits back in her chair. Louis glides out of the kitchen, pan and spatula in postion and slides a slightly charred pancake onto her already set plate. She tentatively grasps her cutlery and proceeds to drown her breakfast into maple syrup. He continues to look at her expectantly, hands frozen midair. Once she's taken a nibble, he jumps to ask. "How is it? I know it isn't even close to perfection, but better than last time, eh?"

She swallows tiredly. "It's good," a mumble manages to get out.

His exhuberant smile falls from his face. "Everything alright, love?"

Moon attempts a smile, that she is sure looks more like a grimace. "Yeah, yeah," she answers hastily. Then, she takes another bite to emphasize it. "I just didn't get enough sleep last night," and it exactly isn't a lie.

"Maybe there was a pea under your mattress," Louis quips.

"Maybe," she grumbles. She isn't even in the mood to joke, but her father doesn't seem to notice because he only pauses a moment before sriding back into the kitchen. She quickly finishes the rest of her pancake and carries her plate to the sink.

"I was going to make you another one. Was it not good?" Louis asks from beside her, eye trained concentratedly on the stovetop where the batter bubbles on the skillet. "I think I'll just stick to eggs and bacon."

"Oh, no," she is quick to reassure. "It was good, sir. Loved it, infact. But sleep is catching upto me and I hope you won't mind if I kip in a few hours. I don't have a class today." She stays just as long as she gets Louis's nod of permission before she saunters away and heaves upstairs to a soft heaven. As she sits back against two pillows, she moans out of relief. She drifts into a conscious slumber, just closing her eyes, but completely aware of herself. She feels slurred, just fuzzy around the edges like she was at her last energy bar. She can hear voices and doors closing a couple of times, but her mind ignores it, choosing to enter a pretend- euphoric state to feel better.

When she's fully awake again, it's two o' clock. She's pretty sure Louis had knocked on her door only to find her asleep, and had left her as she was. The tiredness pools up as hunger and pain at the bottom of her stomach and she drags herself downstairs, tongue begging for something sweet. Strangely, there's a cloth bag sitting on the dining table. As innocent as it looked, Moon's curiousiy wasn't. She wasn't supposed to be snooping around; she had come for the fridge and she wasn't supposed to peek into the bag unless it was explicitly her business. But, despite the battle with her conscience, she finds herself moving forward and prying it open.

Inside were an assortment of sweets; ranging from M&Ms to Malteasers. Her mouth waters at the sight of them. Before she could be surprised as to why they were there, a voice speaks. "Sometimes, I think you're mad," Louis speaks up, pushing himself off from leaning against the adjacent wall. She almost jumps out of her skin knowing he was silently standing and waiting for her. She nearly thinks she's been caught red-handed-- she could get scolded and the impression that she had been making could crumble down in an instant. Instead, he says, "Moon, darling. If you wanted sweets, you could have asked."

She unintelligently manages to say, "huh?"

"I have five sisters, if you hadn't noticed," he says with a roll of his eyes even if the concern flashed back in them. "You're idiot if you think I didn't notice. Your mood in the morning, sleeping in. You aren't usually like this and it just adds up."

Moon's cheeks turn a bright shade of pink as she fidgets in her place, pulling at the sleeves of her sweater. "Oh, I-" she begins to says. Her face crumples. "Oh God."

"Hey now," Louis says soothingly. "Nothing to be embarassed about. Mother Nature just isn't nice to women and none of us have understood why. Now, how about you grab a tub of ice-cream from the freezer. You like Cake and Fudge, don't you? I got a few other flavours if you aren't feeling it. I'll grab a bowl myself and we can watch a nice movie. Anything you want. I won't even mind if it's the cheesy kind."

Moon can feel tears prick her eyes, slowly diluting her vision. Everything just felt so... unbelievable. She was so lucky and she had missed this for so long and she was so angry. But, she was so happy. It was frustrating to choose between both those feelings. She sniffles and replies with a quick nod that is all to vigorous enough to break her neck. But, her father furrows his eyebrows and comes closer, sliding a warm arm around her shoulder, looking down at her with empathetic eyes. "What's wrong, love? I told you there isn't anything to be embarassed about."

She chokes on a sob, sniffling once again as her hands come up to wipe her sticky eyes. "I'm sorry," she cries. "The hormones... I'm just really happy. Thank you. So much."

"Do you need a hug?"

She shakes her head, pursing her lips. "Not right now. Maybe later."

He simply pats her shoulder and leads her out of the dining area. "You're a sweet girl, Moonie. I don't want to see you cry." She can't help but think she's the luckiest again. He was either nice to her on obligation or on fatherly instinct. She likes to think it's the latter.

\---

On a very wet Wednesday, Moon is standing by the kitchen counter, spooning some Horlicks into two mugs while licking her powdery fingers. The morning was a cloudy blanket over their heads, but she managed to go to and come back from her art classes without much of a disturbance except a pinching drizzle. But, as soon as noon hit, the sun ducked behind the clouds impromptu as the rain belted down in heavy whips.

She can hear Louis's voice protesting to his phone, overpowered by the rain drumming on the sides of the buliding. The ceremic pitcher is warm as she picks it up and tilts a long ribbon of milk into each mug, following it with a tinkling stir. Her father is staring at his phone with a frown when she comes into the lounge and nudges a scalding hot mug at him.

He nearly drops it. "Ooh, that's hot," he sets it on the arm of the sofa and rubs his palms together before picking it up again. "Perfect on a rainy day. Thanks, love. I haven't had Horlicks since I was three." He looks up at her, and his solemn expression melts into easy laughter that makes lines appear on his face. Even with them, he looks younger. "Have you been eating it though?" He laughs more at her scandalised eyes. "It's all over your face!"

Moon's hands fly up to dust her cheeks and mouth. Her ears turn red behind her wispy hair. "Sorry. It was tempting."

Louis hums in reply with a hint of a smile remaining on his face. He slurps his milk slowly while scrolling through his messages. For some time, both of them sit next to each other, floating in their own worlds. Moon watches the silhouettes of droplets trickle and race down the window pane by the telly- which was deliberately on mute. It rained like a rhythm in London. Like a lullaby at night, soft deformed shadows putting her to sleep from just watching them. The English rain had something about it; flavour that the spells in Cali couldn't compete with.

She would hate wet weather if she had lived in London, probably, but the possibility looked far. But, she loved it because it wasn't like that in Avalon. California was sun, sun and sun. It was the heat beating down at her eyes and nothing else. It was the sweat stinging at the nape of neck and sometimes she hated it. Perhaps it was the people around her and not the weather.

Her thoughts were broken off by a short vibration induced from her pocket. Her phone's screen exclaimed Jesse's name and the angel on her right shoulder did a little shimmy. She still had to reply to Harry's messages of course, but she didn't know what to answer. But, talking to Jesse meant telling somebody all the eyebrow raises and adrenaline rushes and hurricane in her life.

**_What the heck have you been doing?? where are you? i haven't heard from you in long!!!_ **

_**Actually youre dad told me you went to visit your aunt in London..... really?** _

_Yup! I'm in London! But, not at my aunt's._

_Knew you loved me! Couldn't stand being away from me, could you?_

**_Shut up... where have you been dying then?_ **

_Somewhere._

**_Where???? I didnt get up in the middle of the night to play guessitimate with you.. Tell me!_ **

_Not my fault._

She could see Jesse pouncing to reply, the little typing icon popping up. She had missed his snarky attitude and his stupid inability to text without shortcuts. "Who's that?" Louis says somewhere between her spaced out mental self monologue.

"Just Jesse," she answers with a shrug that is way too nonchalant.

   "I was thinking I could pop by the studio today. It's been a while since I've gone down there and Poor Liam is taking care of everything. But, it's a rainy day and we have nothing to do. Might as well," he pauses to drink in her expression. "You could come as well. I'll be busy for a while at the most, but you can explore and pass the time idly just as long as you stay safe and in the building."

Moon's face lights up at that. "I would love to."

Louis stands up, striding towards the kitchen with his empty mug. "Change and put on your coat. We're leaving in twenty," he calls out midst the gushing noise of the faucet.

As soon as she's mirrored his actions, she scampers upstairs and shimmies into a pair of jeans. Overdue excitement seeps into her insides. She feels lethargic to comb out the knots from her bird nest of hair and strip herself of comfort from the soft sofa, but she was going to her father's workplace. Nothing else could make the day better, even the never ceasing wailing of the sky. It meant she was seeing a bit more of his life. He was letting her.

By the next half an hour, they were tumbling onto the wet roads, midst moaning honks and slow traffic while stuck in a cozy car with the heater cranked up. Despite the cascading rain hit the roof like drums, a soft guitar crooned in the atmosphere. Her father had a liking for pop rock, indie rock and a bit of soul. She was a proud owner of that piece of new information.

Free from the traffic at last, they rolled into a large parking lot in front of a tall beige building with a lot of glass windows. The security had smiled at Louis and let him without further ado. He must have quite a command around. He screeches to a stop before the entrance- a pair of flawless glass doors. "Go on, I'll park the car and come. I didn't get an umbrella, don't want you catching a cold. So, run as fast as you can."

"Isn't there a valet?"

"Unfortunately, this isn't a hotel. So, no."

Moon looks outside the blurred window with vaccilating eyes. "Are you sure there won't be any paparazzi outside? I mean, you're pretty famous and from what I've heard, the pictures are brutal. If I get pictured with you, Pappa won't be pleased to see my face all over the papers."

Louis peers at her for a long moment. "Oh, of course not! The paps only take pictures when you pay them to come. They're only allowed when we call them. That's why it's a pap walk. We're scheduled so that we deliberately take pictures of us. Otherwise, they can be sued."

"Really?" Harry had never told her things were like that.

"Yes! Now, go. Shoo! Wait for me in the lobby. If the receptionist asks, tell her you came with me. If she doesn't listen, tell her these words; 'I like black tomatoes'."

"Black tomatoes?!"

"Yes. Get out, now!"

With that, Moon wrenches the door open and slams it, scuttling up the stairs fast before she can get soaked. Her hair is a sopping mess by the time she gets in through the doors and little raindrops blance themselves on the tips of her eyebrows. Her teeth are chattering from the cold and her hands might even be a sickly blue. She lets out a harsh warm breath and walks forward.

The receptionist with a perfect hair bun -and not a strand out of place- greets her with a raised sculpted eyebrow, her dark drawn lips pursing. Behind her, the words Triple Strings Ltd are written in a block stenciled letters with four clocks with different times on it- just above them. She assesses Moon before the hostility slips out her place. "Can I help you, doll?" Her voice is high pitched and mellow.

"Erm. I- I came with Louis Tomlinson," she manages to say as she comes closer to the front desk. She smiles sheepishly. "He's parking the car right now, and he told me to wait here till he comes."

A puzzled expression crosses the woman's face. "Are you sure? Mr. Tomlinson doesn't have any young visitors over unless they're his siblings. You certainly don't look like them. Want to tell me the truth?"

"I am. Telling the truth, that is." She gets another eyebrow raise in return. "Wait. Er- he told me to tell you. Black tomatoes. He likes black tomatoes. I mean... I like black tomatoes."

Realisation mirrors on the woman's face, but her equivocal voice opposes it. "But, he hasn't told me he's been expecting you."

Moon nearly bangs her forehead against the desk. She understands security issues, but the woman has to understand that she's made it past the gate security without the slightest of problems and is also holding a code word that only Louis Tomlinson seems to know. She's quickly saved by her father jogging into the lobby, hair stuck up from being wet, and clothes soaking. "Lindsay. How are you, darling?"

"Good afternoon, Mr. Tomlinson. Do you know this young lady here? She claims to know you," the receptionist tattles immediately.

Louis turns towards her with a quizzical expression. "And who may you be?" As shock flashes on her face, he lets out a boisterous laugh. "I'm just messing with you!" He wraps an arm around his daughter's shoulder. "Lindsay, this is Moon, my best pal and Moonie, this is the receptionist and my part time P.A because I'm horrible at being organised."

"Very horrible," Lindsay emphasises, smiling apologetically at the youngest. "I'm sorry I interrogated you. Safety first and all that, y'know?"

Moon brushes it away with a few easy words. Soon enough, she's in front of a mahogany door after a series of confusing lefts and rights. It is adorned by a shiny golden name plate that says her father's name in a jarring font. He pushes it open and gestures for her to enter, which she does tentatively. Inside, the walls are peppered with photoframes of famous people, pictures of him accepting awards and of his clients, showcased vinyl records and whatnot. There's a long sofa to the end of the room which looks tempting for a short snooze and smack dab in the middle is a posh round laminate table, paired with a large chair and a bunch of files placed neatly on the tabletop.

While, she's trying to catch everything with her eye, the door swings open from behind her and someone with a familiar voice comes booming in. "Here you are, Tommo. Thought you wouldn't be around for another month. Good to know you've graced the building with your presence." The airy tone makes her freeze and hold in a breath.

 "Payno. Admit you missed me. You dream of seeing me everyday and I've decided to make your wish true," Louis says haughtily. It doesn't seem like something an almost-forty-year-old would say as appicable as maturity could be. But, perhaps, he decided he was younger at soul just like Aunt Lottie. Or maybe, the entire Tomlinson was so.

She slowly turns in her place, eyes darting around to camouflage into the wallpaper- which is proven to be impossible, yet she tries. "Right. You are the light of my life, and I dunno whatever I shall do with myself if you weren't there," he snorts. Just as Louis is about to retort, the latter's eyes fall on her. He stumbles back with spluttering speech. "M-Moon?!"

Louis's eyebrows plunge down, frowning in confusion. "You know her?"

Liam quickly conceals his shock, morphing his features into a playful one. "This is her, isn't it? I feel like I know with you telling me about her everyday, y'know? How are you, dear?" He asks with a saccharine smile, though his eyes pointedly aim daggers at her. "Louis has told me so much about you. You sound like a brilliant child. My name's Liam, by the way. If I hadn't mentioned before. Had I? Or at least Louis has told you. We work together. Funny. I didn't know it was Bring A Surprise To Work Day." He's rambling for sure, and she doesn't know how to tell him off politely.

Louis narrows his eyes, replying with an unconvinced tone. "Surely I haven't mentioned her name, have I?"

"Oh, Louis. You're silly! Of course you mentioned her name. How else do you think I know her name? But, no, actually how do you think I do? You thought I knew her before this? Because I certainly didn't. How could I? I do not understand why you would entertain such a thought-"

Moon moves quickly towards before he does any further damage, reaching out for one of his animated hands and shaking it enthusiastically. "Pleasure to meet you, Liam. Mr. Tomlinson has told me about you quite a lot. It's good to finally put a face to that name. I mean, I knew how you looked, but seeing you in real is another matter, isn't it?"

Liam stops his long monologue, lips pursing as he continues to glare at her. "Hmm, I'm sure it is." He drops her hand. He turns towards Louis tersely. "We have the duo we chose last week in today. You should hear their sound, they're by the studio and they're waiting."

Right after, Louis and Liam saunter out of the tension in the office cabin and weave through the broad corridors until they come across a room larger than the others. There's a lot of teck inside, a sea of wire tangled on the ground where they anonymously lead up to a stereo, a few microphones, a recording booth; in no particular order. Louis leaves her with his co-worker and a burning stare as he goes toward a young man and woman who introduce themselves excitedly on his arrival.

As soon as Louis is absorbed in his work, Liam turns to glower at his niece. "Excuse me, but what the exact hell are you doing here, Moon? Does Louis know?"

"Honestly, it's a very long story, Uncle Liam," she answers with a long sigh. He looks at her expectantly and she begins to tell him everything that happened after she left his house. Ten minutes later, she finishes off with a "Which brings us to the present," twinned with another sigh.

Liam's eyes are whimsically wide, his left hand rubbing his forehead as to relieve himself of an onset of a migraine. He blows out a harsh breath and focuses back on her. "I must say, though you've got yourself in a mess. It's a mess worth creating and getting out of. But, one thing that I'm not sure is how both your parents will end up. There's a high chance of Louis sueing Harry for keeping you from him, or maybe Harry could issue a restraining order. You never know. But, that could be far-fetched too. They're not that savage, I guess."

"I hope not," Moon says gravely.

"So, what are you talking about? You look like you're in an argument!" Louis makes his way back to them, peering quizzically. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," Liam jumps to brush away. "I was just telling Moon that she should try out singing, y' know? She's got a nice voice already and nothing could go wrong if she tries. Just a little experience she can have. Afterall, she does have the Tomlinson genes. I bet she can sing."

"That's a brilliant idea!"

"Oh, no it isn't!" Moon warns. "I don't know where you got that idea, but I sound offkey even when I'm singing the alphabet, I don't think I'm a Vienna Adams or Giselle Kahn. Would be an insult to all the musicians in the world, actually." She leans towards Liam to mutter from the corner of her mouth, "Uncle Liam, leave the awkward situations to me. I'll handle them better than you ever can."

"What was that?" Louis looks between them doubtfully.

Moon plasters on a convincing smile. "Nothing. Liam was telling me about-"

"Li!" Another voice calls from the door.

When all three of them look up, Zayn is standing against the frame, Aisha hitched at his hip and a supply bag hanging over his shoulder. In his other hand are a few white bags. He makes his way to them slowly, a grin melting onto his face. He makes cotton t-shirts look classy with the older man look and even Moon manages to compliment him in her head. He meets Louis's eyes with a dimmed smile. "I take it Liam hasn't told you that I was bringing over lunch today. You can join if you want, I have a free day and there's nothing to do and Aisha got bored..." he trails off and swallows his scream when he spots Moon.

Moon can practically feel Liam's mind shouting  _ohnopleasenopleaseohno_  but she keeps her eyes on the black haired man calmly. Until Aisha squeals out a loud 'Moonie!' and then, she knows she's screwed.

\---

_Harry didn't exactly think what he's doing. He was sleep ridden, his hair ruffled up from rolling around in a pillow, eyes fighting to not droop, but as awake as ever. It was all a big blur, driving at the speed of lightening, not caring about being caught by a cop, thrusting his keys to a valet, rushing in through the glass doors. He did remember feeling frantic when the receptionist took time to look at her computer and tell him the locations. Instead of jamming his finger for a lift, he scampered up four flights of stairs, panting and sprinting his way into a narrow dim-lit corridor._

_To the end, Niall is seated on a metal bench, right outside a door which was opened, being the only occupant. His head is clutched between his knees, hands bracing them so tight, his knuckles were white. At the absolute end, a blonde woman was cradling a young child who seemed intrigued by a water filterer, turning the knob on and off to run her stubby fingers under the gushing water. The woman, albeit smitten with her, tried to mask her melancholy._

_"Moon," he gasped, staggering forward till he was taking her from Gemma's arm. His daughter came quickly, giggling with a bubbly greeting as he pressed urgent kisses to the apple of her cheeks. She pulled the remnants of his hair and laughed. Of course, she didn't have the slightest of ideas what was going on._

_Gemma took her back from him, the lines on her forehead more prominent than the day before when he had video-called her. "Go," she muttered towards Niall._

_He slowly made his way to the metal bench. He sat down, not to disturb the air. "Niall," he whispered, arm stretching out to loop around his friend's shoulders. When they found out the news, Niall had impulsively brought a plane ticket and Harry was left to cover for him. He didn't have a choice and neither did Niall. He had to lie that the blonde man had caught a stomach bug at a scheduled meeting, avoiding the lads' questioning glances. They were into the first tour after the hiatus, and emergencies took chances to come. Fortunately, it was a break midst the tour and Harry could follow him only half a day later._

_Niall looked up, red rimmed eyes sunken in. He began to sob upon seeing his bandmate. His face crumpled and his eyes sank into slits as fat tears make their way out of them. "H-Harry. She-She. I don't know what to do to. I don't want to let her go. What if we never see her again? I... I can't. She- Bria." He paused to swallow the breath he had restricted for long. "I don't know what to do."_

_For once, Harry was inarticulate. It wasn't something he could console about. Consolation was when he could tell somebody that everything would be alright. In that moment, everything wasn't alright; he doubted if it would be alright after it. Time was slipping, cracking through his hands like sand in the wind. And Bria went with time. She only kept borrowing it, and they were fighting a battle that was losing and that wasn't theirs. There wasn't anything he could say to fit the situation. Instead, he dragged his friend into a tight embrace which coaxed harder cries from him, but by the time Moon had joined in on stroking Niall's dyeless hair, he was just hiccuping under his breath._

_"Go see her. She's been asking for you," Niall encourages hoarsely once when looked up. "She doesn't want you to see her because she thinks she looks too weak but, she'll definitely appreciate it if you do go see her."_

_Again, wordlessly, Harry jumped up, hitching his daughter on his hip before he tentatively walked into the blinding white hospital room. Bria laid in the a nest of pillows just as pure and pale as the sheets. There were numerous wires attached to her like Medusa's hair and they looked like they were taking her life more than they were providing one. Her cheeks were sunken in, but her tired eyes still smiled like they always did. "Harrison," she said meekly._

_"Bria," he whispered, before stumbling onto a stool by her bedside, sneaking a hand to clutch at her veinous hand that looked like it was made of glass. He gave it a delicate squeeze. Moon crawled off his lap and onto the bed where she laid her head against the woman's stomach and gurgled. Automatically, Bria's hand which was connected to the glucose went to stroke her soft hair. Harry cleared his clogged throat. "I see you've finally let Niall know. And I reckon it's a bit too late?" He hoped she couldn't see the tear that started to accumulate in his eyes._

_Bria harrumphed as softly as she could. "He was furious. You know how he gets. I'll miss him, I think. I already know I'm not going to miss you, you bugger. I'm going to be sitting amongst the clouds in heaven, drinking heavenly lemonade and laughing at your miserable state from up there."_

_"I bet you are," he let out a watery laugh. "I'll miss you though. You're the most beautiful woman in the world I've ever known and I'm putting aside my mum for you."_

_Bria was also choking on her tears, but she managed to make it sound like she wasn't. "No need for sentiments now, Harry. I'm fine. I'll be going. But, I'll still be here. I have a daughter to look after so that she doesn't obtain your promiscuously weird ways, don't I?"_

_"Stay," Harry pleaded. "I don't think I can do this without you. Or your support. Our world would be so different, Bria. Niall, Moonie and me. We can't imagine anything without you now. Please stay."_

_"I wish I could, Harry, but I'm God's favourite child and apparently, he can't live without me for too long. I'm happy I met you lot. Love you all. As for final wishes; Moonie knows what I want and she'll fulfill it at some point. I'm sure."_

_Ten minutes later, Harry was storming out of the hospital, voice stuck midcry, the wails of his daughter screaming 'Bria!' resonating along it's horrid white walls as she grasped on to her tightly. Leaving then was easier than watching her close her eyes later. Moon was all he had now and he couldn't afford to let her go._

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Part Six

 Around nine days later,  Moon realises that she's stayed at Louis's for just around a month. It's funny because she was awaiting so many more days with him and it felt like only the beginning. Only yesterday was she so timid to step foot in his house, but she already felt like an inhabitant of the haunt.

Meanwhile, she was getting to know her father more and more. Perhaps not thirteen years worth of it, but most of the real him. He was not stopping to hesitate to swing an arm around her shoulder or hug her. He was always smiling at her. Like Harry did.

Speaking of her other father, she had stopped taking calls since it felt too risky, and instead answered vaguely in voice messages. She made up cock-and-bull stories every time and made herself sound excited. It was not the best, but it was for the best. She wondered if it satisfied him. The end was going to come when she was going to say it was going, and now it certainly wasn't. Gemma was supposed to clean up after her; it was unofficially the whole point.

With time, she gets to know that Louis is a kind, genuine man. He's there to wrap a bandage around her hurt finger whilst chopping vegetables and he's there to laugh raucously at her screeching when she spots a spider in her bathroom. She's had so many adventures that she doesn't ever want to go back to the outside world.

They end up buying a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle when they're out one day and they spend an entire day sitting on the rug with their sore bums and finishing it at half three in the morning. She introduces Californian grape wine to him; he's scandalised of course, but he lets her take a sip out of his cherry vodka even though it's wrong.

But, of course, they can't stay cooped inside all the time. So, Louis adopts a brilliant idea. He comes home one day from the studio with a wig that covers her face and only leaves space for her mouth. She can breath through it and even Louis's manager thinks it's a fine idea and that it's more promotion for the label. What she doesn't understand is why it's like that or why she has to wear it.

Louis claims that back in his days, there was an artist called Sia who had stopped revealing her face for the cameras. It was a mystery element that got everyone wondering. It also meant that she could go out in public and not be recognised. He suggests that Moon can come out of the house without her face blowing up on gossip websites.

The wig is a bit ticklish and is a pitch black. It flies up a bit every time she huffs. She only has to wear it when she's stepped out of the car in a crowded place. Even when Louis has a scheduled pap walk, she gets to go with him and have him guide her from place to place. They go back home and giggle over the semblance to Sia and rumours of a supposedly new flame.

At the moment, Moon is on an unannounced shopping spree that all her aunts abduct her to. They've gone to a mall which was a couple of kilometres away, window shopping and all. And by window shopping, she means touch them and try them on and put them back. Lottie, Phoebe and Daisy thrust different things at her and by the end of two hours, she's carrying bags full of flower crowns and sleep suits and frayed jeans. Fizzy however, makes Phoebe carry all her bags, and she doesn't buy anything except for food, saying nothing other the clothes from the maternity section fit her.

"So, how's it going with my brother? He's so bloody fond of you, and he doesn't have an inkling that you're his daughter yet," Lottie rolls her eyes and takes a sip out of her cool drink. She looks very pretty; long brown hair in sheets with her sunglasses perched on her head. "But, he's having a good amount of practice."

"He thinks I'm a menace," Moon replies. She takes a tentative bite out of her chicken sandwich. They're a secluded restaurant in the mall. Three of her aunts are lazily chomping while seated in the booth, but one of them is busy eating her way into tomorrow. Again. 

"He thinks everybody except for him is a menace," Daisy supplies. 

"He's going to think you're an angel once you get back. Owen can be a pain and now that he's with his uncle, he tends to get hyperactive," Lottie says with a laugh. "But, really. What about anything else? I know he's treating you well, I can hear it in your voice and all. But, anything that you were close to revealing?"

Moon huffs, a strand of hair that was resting on her forehead flies up. "Trust me. It's horrible. I've become so good at lying." Phoebe and Daisy coax her to go on and she does. "A couple of weeks ago, Auntie Gemma called me while we were having breakfast. I told him it was my mother and then he asked to talked her. I almost died. I told him her name was Jenny and I have no idea how he didn't sense her shock, because I could've imagined it."

Fizzy stops eating abruptly, bursting out laughing. "Oh, yeah! Gemma phoned to tell me about that one. Said she nearly vomited out her heart."

"That's exactly how I felt," Moon answers gravely, shaking her head minutely. "And then only about more than a week ago, he took me to the studio and Uncle Liam was there and he recognised me. He covered it up somehow. But, then, Uncle Zayn and Aisha came and she recognised me. Only she couldn't keep quiet about it. She kept chanting my name and I knew I was done for."

Phoebe laughs throatily. "What happened then?"

"I played it casual, of course. I said hello back. And then Dad and Liam and Zayn were just looking at me and I told them I had helped her in the loo when Zayn had appeared with her. But, of course, he was late on the realisation and he didn't reply as quick, which got Dad too suspicious. But, again, I managed."

Everyone else at the table begins to laugh. It makes Moon turn red, but she bites her lip and smiles at her lap. Fizzy has to take out her emergency inhaler from wheezing too hard, but she turns out to be okay. Despite the serious moment, the twins are laughing their heads off and Lottie is giggling into her hand. She feels stupid, but she feels so lucky as well. She doesn't say it out loud, though.

They go for foot massages later on, like a proper girls' day out and Moon has had fun. Sure, the shopping was tedious, but she was with people who cared about her, people who were trying so hard to spoil and she couldn't have wished for more. Her feet are sore from running from shop to shop, and the pressure on her legs makes her want to fall asleep.

\---

Lottie drops off Fizzy first, all of them watching her waddle in and sighing in relief. The twins jump out of the car with a conjoined goodbye. Then, they drive to Louis's again. Her aunt briefly comes in to pick up her son and is out the door just as quickly. Before she goes, she tells Moon to tell him as quickly as possible.

Moon knows what she's talking about, but she pretends she doesn't. She needs something like a catalyst to do that, and that hasn't come yet.

"Good day?" Louis asks, pulling off his glasses. He's stretching his back against the sofa with a grunt, before relaxing back with his laptop. His tired eyes scrutinise her. "You look different. A good different."

"I got my eyebrows done. We went shopping," she gestures to the bags she's placed by the door. "And had food, and went to the  beautician's. I almost convinced Aunt Lottie into letting me dye my hair purple, but she said it could wait."

"It definitely could," Louis agrees immediately. As if she wasn't old enough. Maybe she wasn't. She could always try things out with organic dye you get in the market. "I've had enough exercise for the next two months. My nephew tired me out. I'm an old man now."

"Finally accepting it, then," she teases. "Actually, what did he do?"

"I was looking through some paperwork and it was weirdly silent, you know? I felt like something was wrong, so I searched everywhere and at last found him in the kitchen. He was making soap foam in the sink and he had put it all over his hair. By the time I had gotten that out, it took like an hour. He running and I was chasing. Right after that, he snuck into my office, stole an ink bottle right under my nose and got it all over his arms." He sighs, long suffering.

Moon was now reduced to laughter, peals erupting from her mouth. "Who even uses fountain pens anymore?" She wheezes out.

"There's an air of royalty to it, Moonie. It's a good feel you won't understand. People still use typewriters and DVD players. You know, like for memories," Louis reasons solemnly.

"Since you said something about memories, I just remembered." She strides to her bag, digging through them to grasp onto a package covered in wrapping paper. She plops herself in the armchair and places the package in front of Louis on the tea-table. "I got you something."

"Really? That's awfully sweet of you, darling," he croons with an amused lilt in his voice as he picks it up. With no finesse, as expected, he rips off the wrapping paper to reveal a lime green photo-frame with a picture of the two in it. Louis had pulled her against him with the other hand giving a thumbs up and she was tucked under his shoulder with a grin that rebelled any toothpaste advertisement.

He doesn't let out a dramatic gasp like she expects him to, but there's a jump in his shoulders and looks up at her with twinkling eyes. "I love it," he says over the grin.

Moon shrugs abashedly. "I got Aunt Daisy to bribing the tech guy at this supermarket into printing it out from my phone and I got us identical frames. Like, I may not stay here forever, can I? So, it's something you can remember me by when I'm gone, right? And I can look at the picture when I'm back in Avalon and tell everybody that I met a famous personality who isn't a complete ar-"

"Language," Louis scolds softly. But, focuses back at her with a breezy smile. "I dunno when you're leaving, Moon, and I don't want to know, either. But, I'm going to miss. Quite a lot." The thing is; Moon doesn't want to leave, but she doesn't say so. He doesn't know, and she has to wait. She doesn't know if he'll let her stay after that. She's just going to cherish the only time she'll have with him.

 

Twenty minutes later, they've dug out an old toolbox and Louis hammering a nail slowly into the wall next to the kitchen while Moon steadily holds onto the step-ladder. He yelps when he hits his thumb, and Moon laughs like she's never known what laughter was.

\---

 

Louis bursts in through the door when she's painting her tiniest toenail a shimmery sapphire. She's sat on the bed facing the head with her foot against the board and her tongue peeking out in concentration. The sound startles her so much that the brush steers off onto her skin. She clucks her tongue disapprovingly. "You could have been quiet, sir," she whines playfully. "I was doing well until you came it, now it's ruined."

When she turns to him as she jumps off the bed, he's frozen mid-air with his mouth open in shock. His hand is paused on the doorknob and it's almost as if he had turned to stone all of a sudden. Before she can ask what's wrong, he blurts out, "Fizzy's at the hospital."

Now, she's completely on her feet. "I thought her due date wasn't until a week later."

"You know how babies are," Louis chuckles nervously. "They want to get out and into world as quickly as they can. I remember when Lottie came. She's only about seven months and she put my mum under so much stress that I learnt the floor's entire staff's name. But, it could also be fake. Like, fake labour. What's that thing called again? Brian Hicks? No, no, no. Braxton Hicks, yeah, that's the one. It could be, but Fizzy seemed sure. She made me call back home so they're all coming in a few hours or by morning, I mean, traffic is horrible on that side, innit? Lottie and the twins are there so... but, what is she thinking?! Giving birth in this time? I bet it's that fake labour again. She's always been horrible at decisions, you know? She chose Economics in Uni, and she didn't even know what the stock market was! What an idiot-"

"Sir," she cuts him off promptly before he started a two sided conversation. With himself.

"Right. Right, sorry." He takes in a deep breath. "Stay here, okay? I'll call every hour if I can." He's already beginning to back out of the door, keys fisted in his hands. "Stay safe, call me if you need anything."

She stalks forward with determination. "I'm coming with you."

"No, I don't think you-"

"I'm coming with you, sir."

Louis gives her a long look before giving the ground a deep sigh. "Come along, then, we need to get there fast." The garage is only a lift ride away and soon, they're racing towards the car and once they're all buckled up, Louis is swerving out of the community and onto the main road. In no time, he's honking at the mad traffic that is piecing up as time went on. The cars began fitting around them like Tetris and Louis was banging on the steering wheel, a string of colourful vocabulary falling out of his mouth. Technically, it was rush hour. "I hate London," he enunciates.

"You don't," she supplies.

"At the moment, yes, I do," Louis reasons, letting his forehead fall against the wheel as he lets out a suffering sigh. "I just want to get there quickly. God knows how she's doing," he says quietly.

She gazes at him intensely till he matches eyes with her. "She's going to be alright. I'm very sure, she is."

Louis nods to himself, pinching his mouth together. "She is. She's a tough nut, that one." Despite his self-motivating words, he began to jam the horn and curse out loud again. They reach the hospital around forty minutes later, when the red hue of the sun diluted around in the sky. The parking lot is already dotted with vehicles, and they weave around them and the incoming ambulances that wail. It was only eight in the evening. They quickly jump out, grab details from the receptions and climb four flights of stairs strenuously. They have to take a second to catch their breath before they're off.

Moon is hot on her heels as Louis ducks into every room they pass, until they find his sister lying in what seems like a matchbox bed in a tin room. She's grunting every now and then, while accepting a spoonful of ice chips into her mouth that the nurse feeds her. Perhaps she feels their presence in the doorway, she beckons them in as the nurse excuses herself. "You two came. Well, you're the first ones. Lottie is on her way and others will come up from Doncaster in the morning. I called Mitch two hours ago, though," she says, concern leaking into her voice. As they move closer, Moon notices the dark circles under her aunt's eyes and the irritated twitch of her lips. She can hardly imagine what it felt like, yet, Fizzy manages to smile when Louis rubs her arm soothingly.

All of a sudden, a body rushes in the room in a flurry. It's a man with red disheveled hair, nervous eyes darting around until they land on the only woman there. "Felicity, how-" he cuts himself off as he moves forward and his eyes stay firm on her face. "There you are. Alright?" His arm brushes back her hair and the action confuses Moon.

"You think I am?" She growls, which morphs into a pained moan. "I'm going to pop out a baby in a few hours. It's going to be more pain than you will ever experience as a man." Gemma had told Moon that she was having twins, maybe she was wrong. She now understood why they kept referring to Fizzy's stomach as the baby.

Louis snorts, but manages to turn it into a cough.

The man glares at him. "Very mature, Louis. Very mature. Your sister is supposed to give birth and you're laughing."

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "I'm laughing because, even in the time of giving birth, she's managed to stump you." He risks a chuckle. "At least, I got here earlier than you did. Proves your worth, really."

The man's eyebrows knit together. "Hey!"

"Both of you knock it off," Fizzy snaps, taking in a deep breath. Moon has moved to her side of the bed while the exchange was happening. "I don't need this right now. You both can choose any other time in the world, but not now. Please not now," she repeats her heavy breathing again. "Mitch, respect my brother, please and- Louis, stop laughing! You have to learn how to grow up."

"Never," he  retorts with a smile.

Fizzy mirrors him rolling his eyes earlier, and smiles up tiredly at Moon. "Moon, this is my fiancé Mitch and Mitch, this is the niece I've been telling you about."

"Nice to meet you," she smiles politely.

"Oh!" Mitch enunciates, mouth dropping open in aghast. "I've heard a lot about you, Moon. Pleasure to meet you. Heard you went shopping last week." He must know everything because he pauses to look between Louis and her. "Fliss, you weren't kidding, love. There is a resem-"

Moon begins to thank the gods as a nurse waltzes into the room with a pair of scrubs that she hands to Mitch while she ushers the others out of the room. Louis and Moon step outside, to be met with a deranged Lottie, coat hanging from her arm as she trills reassurances into the phone wedged between her shoulder blade and cheek. Upon their arrival, she smiles meekly and goes back to talking to her mum.

The labor lasts for twelve hours; which is considerably less time than it can actually be. They're made to sit in the family waiting room, which makes Moon thankful; she isn't sure is she'd be okay with hearing her aunt's ear piercing screams. At least Mitch had said so, coming by to inform them every two hours. Each visit seemed more frantic than the other and he was red in the face every time. Apparently, Fizzy wanted to chop his -ahem- testicles off and nail them above the fireplace. It had Moon's ears turning red.

Moon doesn't know how the time passes. She's a bit terrified, also a bit excited. It was a weird combination that got her on her feet. She was always timid of mothers who had given birth. She could imagine their screams, and if they were as fierce as being able to push out a large baby, she couldn't imagine what other countless ghastly activities they were capable of doing. So, she nervously taps her knees, conjures up a nice conversation with Lottie, tries a couple of games on her phone, plays four rounds of I Spy with Louis and takes several trips to the vending machine and the cafeteria, along with talking to a few patients here and there.

A nurse summons them around eight in the morning, when there is sleep weighing their eyelids down and running words that mingle with the air when they're too tired of speaking. Daisy and Phoebe who had joined them long before and were asleep for the longest, jolt up just as easily as the others. They bunch into the room with loud proclamations and see Fizzy half asleep and Mitch cooing and rocking a tiny bundle.

Moon is a little thankful she doesn't have to speak to Fizzy immediately, seeing as she was already slurring out answers. Despite the person being her aunt, the whole scenario didn't get any less intimidating. There was still a tinge of fear hanging in the air of the dim hospital room that everyone could hear. But, she ignores it and patiently waits for her turn to hold the baby. She watches her own father laugh at the little cloth bundle and stores the information of 'he likes kids' for further use.

When everybody is done holding them, the little bundle is nestled gently in Moon's arms, while Mitch supervises. He shows her how to hold them- a hand cupped under the baby's head to support the weak neck and another wrapped across their back. The baby yawns adorably, making a tiny 'o' with their lips and snuggles closer to Moon's chest. She feels something warm go off inside her.

"It's a boy," Mitch whispers as if he just read her mind on the question she was about to ask.

"What are you going to name him?" she asks lowly. From a distance, Louis is watching her with a confident smile and somehow, the night didn't feel better.

"If it was a boy, we were debating between Everett and Orion. We'll have to see. Fliss always gets her way. All Tomlinsons do, I'm sure you know. You're one, yourself."

There it is; the truth smacked in her by yet another person. Mitch's words basically translate to 'tell him that you are one' and she has to chance a look at her father, who thankfully is distracted on the phone trying to call his youngest siblings. At least the timing wasn't all that bad. "So, you know," she points out, instead.

"I do," Mitch replies coolly. "And I'm not going to get into it, because it's none of my business. I just don't want my family to get hurt," he says. To her relief, he doesn't sound accusatory. He gestures at the sleeping baby in her arms. "I'll take him. The nurse said he'll be hungry soon, and he'll start crying his lungs out. Wouldn't want to scare you."

Moon returns the baby boy to her supposed uncle and goes to sit on the visitor's bed. There are so many thoughts spiraling inside her, that she doesn't think her brain can handle it. Reality was as harsh as everybody made it seem; and there she was trying to escape it's clutches and staying cooped in with her father to avoid it all. The truth was supposed to be out by now, but she doesn't how she's supposed to reveal it without dropping a bomb that could possibly blow her away from both her fathers, their trusts and her entire family. Maybe Louis will boycott her; there was a possibility since she doesn't even how in the world she was born.

She hopes her catalyst is near. Perhaps one slip up would straighten the whole thing out. She can only hope. 

\---

   _It had already been three days past her due-date. Moon was lazy, presumably. She didn't want to encounter this sad excuse of a universe, so Harry waited. His hands itched to hold his daughter in his arms though she wasn't out and he was always on his toes to rush Bria into the emergency ward. But, if he had to wait, he could wait a million weeks for her, but thinking, he couldn't wait either. Sometimes, he thought maybe, she did have a miscarriage. But, he pushed the thought back, when Bria said she had no unusual pains, no blood leakage (that was embarrassing to ask) and Moon still had been kicking on regular basis. Her favourite activity was to sit on Bria's bladder and the frequent bathroom trips freaked Harry out so much, he wouldn't let her have water or tea._

_"Harry," she moaned out from her place, her limbs sprawled out in different directions, her arms hanging from the ends of the sofa and her swollen legs splayed out. She was wearing one of his T-shirts, which she had been drowning in, several months ago, but stretched tight over her like it was Cinderella's shoe. She managed to stay frail, except for the protuding middle that resembled the roundness of the Moon, which was a bad pun, she said, when he said that out loud a few days ago._

_"What?" He bit out, rather irritably, he'd already helped in taking her to the bathroom earlier and he hadn't gotten sleep for the last two days. Her demands kept him up, just like the worry, but he was very close to snapping if anyone fleeted him from his sleep-like haze._

_"Harry," she emphasized more. It was obviously for a demand._

_"Cambria," he deadpanned, turning to glare at her._

_"Harrison."_

_"Okay," he sat up, facing her. She blatantly meant business when she called him that, something that reminded him of Louis's infamous call of Harold. He'd have to do whatever she told him, inevitably. "What is it, that you want?"_

_"Mud pie," she put out joyously, eyes glinting with mischief , smiling as if she'd achieved something._

_"Pardon?"_

_She pushed herself up, her back against the armrest. Rubbing her round belly, she smiled down at it. She looked up at Harry with a look he couldn't refuse on. "Ben and Jerry's Mud Pie Ice-cream, you pillock."_

_"Bria, why do you want to have something that's not healthy. We might still have a few avocados in the fridge. Let me go make you a milkshake-"_

_"There's not a way I'm drinking that vegetable crap, Harrison. Get yourself up and get what I asked for."_

_Harry winced, frowning till his eyebrows curve into the bridge of his nose. "We could negotiate. If you want, I'll get you an ice-lolly? Those are good and they don't do much harm."_

_"No."_

_"What about a Cornetto? They're good. Or Frozen Yogurt? It's healthy, isn't it? Better yet, if you only want ice-cream, what about Wey-Hey? It's glutten and sugar free!" He tried to persuade._

_Bria glowered at him as to say I'm pregnant, and you can't say no. So, shut the hell up and keep it coming. She patted her stomach, frowning at him. "This isn't the question of healthy or not, you barmpot! I'm craving it, and if I don't have it in the next half-an-hour, I will throw a tantrum and I will call up my OB/GYN and undergo caesarean right in your living room. How does that sound?" Upon seeing Harry's pale face, she smirked even wider than before. "What's stopping you, then? Someone's hungry. There's another mouth in here that demands for food. If you can't bear me, you should've gotten pregnant yourself. I'd like to see you try."_

_Harry rolled his eyes, "Just say you're the one who wants it." He huffed when her expression didn't change."You're going to eat something called a Mud Pie. Can you hear yourself?"_

_"Of course, I can," she said airily. "If you bring me a substitute, I will murder you with a blunt rusty knife. I don't care where and how you get it, I need it. I'll die without it."_

_Harry gagged, "Ew. You're going to encourage yourself to eat something that looks like shi-"_

_"Ooh," Bria proclaimed, exaggeratingly loud. "Your pappa's cursing like the sailor, he is, Moonie. What are we to do?" She made it a point to stare at him till he got his bottom off the couch. "There, it wasn't that hard to get up, was it?"_

_"Shut up," he muttered, grabbing his keys by the side table._

_"I'm carrying your child, Styles. That is no way to treat an elegant woman."_

_"You," Harry scoffed. "Elegant woman? The Earth must be a cube."_

_"Shove off," she threw back._

_"That's what I'm doing, aren't I?" He shrugged on his coat, making sure he had a faux moustache and a pair of shades in his pocket. He turned towards the other side. "Niall?" He called out, no answer comes, "NIALL!" Niall had done what a best friend always done, stuck by his side. He knew he had better things to do out there, but Niall chose this and he wasn't more grateful. They did vow to be brothers and stick by each others' side all those years ago._

_"Jesus, don't scream," Niall mumbled, lazily making his way towards the living room. His eyes were squinted as his mouth unravelled a yawn. His shirt rode up and there were creases pressed into his cheeks like he'd gotten a good nap in an uncomfortable place. "Are there any favours I have left that I have t'do for you?"_

_Harry glared at his bandmate. He kept using the I-did-you-a-favour card, and it did nothing but suck. He didn't need a reminder that he was wrong every time he talked. "Look after Bria while I'm gone."_

_Bria piped in, "He doesn't have to take care of me."_

_While Niall simultaneously quips, "I'm not doing that. She can take care of herself."_

_Harry didn't avert his gaze, silently pleading all his can through telepathy. "Niall," he said breezily, letting him know from that one word, how fragile the situation was. He knew Bria and Niall banter endlessly, it was out of affection all the time, but this wasn't the time. "You don't need to do anything, just sit by her and watch the telly."_

_"I suppose I could do that," Niall gave in, glancing at the woman. "But, I still don't like you."_

_"Feeling's mutual," she shot back, even though it was a lie._

_Harry didn't comment anything on that, instead, he made his way to Bria, sitting on his knees to get to her height, so that her stomach was levelled with his face. "I'll see you, little bean."_

_"Harry," she laughed rambuctiously. "She isn't a bean anymore. Have you seen her size now?"_

_"Fine, pumpkin, then," he supplied lackadaisically. "I love you, Moonie." He pressed a kiss to Bria's stomach, making her giggle into the back of her hand. He turned to her. Bria looked straight out of a makeup commercial. Her face radiated and her cheeks coloured lightly pink. "I love you. Be safe and don't trip. If you want, you can slave Niall around."_

_"Hey!"_

_She smiled like saccharine. "I love you, too. Don't get caught, or else I won't have the ice-cream." After rolling his eyes one more time, Harry jumps up with a grin, shooting a look at Niall as he walked out the door with his phone wedged between his shoulder and ear -pressumably to call his security- and slammed it shut after him._

_"What? No I love you for me?" Niall stared at the door, scorning. He replaced Harry's place on the couch and took hold of the remote to change the channel._

_"Let this be," she said._

_"You're watching American Horror Story when you're a woman," he sneered mockingly at her._

_"Well done, you sexist pig."_

_"You're pregnant," he stated, like the bump wasn't an obvious indicator._

_"How observant of you," she keened sarcastically._

_"Bria, you're watching a mentally disturbing TV show when you're pregnant. That child will turn out t'be monstrous," he pointed out amusedly._

_It isn't a wonder when Bria argues back._

_\---_

_He gestured to the wet spot on the front of her baggy sweatpants, with red cheeks that shined of embarassment. "You could have asked me to take you to the loo!"_

_She looked stunned for a moment, but didn't turn pale like she usually did. She began to sit up, by her elbows. "I think...I think I might have- my water broke."_

_"What, your water-"_

_Bria smirked, rubbing her tummy proudly. "I'm going into labour, dummy."_

_Niall eyes grew comically wide. "You know, I was joking when I said that. Don't make it real now."_

_"It's real and it's now," Bria got up with flourish, not with the hardship she took to get up earlier, but with a little more exuberance. She caught sight of Niall shaking his head dismissively. "Whatever floats your boat, honeybun. But, I'm very ready to get this baby out of me." She ignored his shocked face, and waltzed into a room as if nothing out of the normal was happening. Like, welcoming a baby into the world wasn't much of a deal._

_"So, you're not joking?" Niall called out her, horrified. "You chose this very moment to do so?"_

_Bria contradicted, "it's already been late, Niall. Your niece chose the time, not me."_

_Niall slowly let the thought seep through the floating around his cranium, into the cerebrum. The air stopped in his windpipe, when it did sink in. "Oh my God, Cambria, you're giving birth!"_

_"Not yet, the pains haven't really started yet," she countered weakly, as a fresh gush of liquid slid down from between her legs. A tiny sharp pain soared across the length of her abdomen, but it felt bearable. Maybe Moon had a good sense of humour, or a thing for irony. When Niall was joking, she'd actually gone into labour and when she'd expressed no pain, she had started to feel it._

_"Bria, in the name of the Holy Trinity, what am I supposed to do?" He tumbled off the couch, dragging his nails over his face in sudden idle frustration. The waves of tension terrorised him throughout, sending numbness shooting him everywhere. His brain wasn't working the right way currently. He felt like he was the who was supposed to give birth. He would make a bad seahorse._

_"The first thing I would want you to do, is to calm down," she smoothed out her maternity smock that she had worn for the particular occasion, just in case it had come down to ease. The lady at the store had exclaimed that it was comfortable enough to slip off to get into a hospital gown. She made her way into the living room, ignoring another pain against her lower stomach. She sighed when she saw Niall wildly thrashing on the ground._

_"Why, though. Why? I'm not ready to be a father, I need more time," Niall wailed from his place, his mind not coherent. If she was in charge of a child, there were two that currently throwing a fit. She did not deserve it._

_"It's not your baby, come on Niall, I'm not wasting my first labour trying to get you on track," she grabbed her bag, standing at the door expectantly, expelling the thought of dragging him across the floor. He was quite involved in the dramatics._

_Niall jumped up, running to the kitchen. "You're right, I can't keep moping around. Get a grip, Niall," he muttered to himself. "I've packed everything, haven't I? Your clothes, toiletries. Your toothbrush! My toothbrush! Louis' toothbrush! Moon's toothbrush! I FORGOT TO PACK MOONIE'S!"_

_Bria didn't stop the low groan that ripped out of her throat, as another pain made its appearance. She had to lean against the doorframe to hold herself as another peal of pain seared through her. "Moon won't have teeth, Niall. Hurry up. You're getting worked up for no reason."_

_"No reason? NO REASON? You're giving birth, how can you be completely normal about it?"_

_"Thank you, Captain Obvious, now do you want me to give birth right here, or can we get going?"_

_"No, Bria, I won't let that happen," Niall swooped down, scooping her into his arms, not listening to her protests as she thrashed. "To the hospital!"_

_"Put me down, Niall! What the hell is wrong with you?" She screamed, struggling in his arms, kicking and punching with all her might. She did not want to be touched, the pain only intensified. "Will you stop enacting Spider-Man, this isn't the time!" Niall ran all the way down the stairs and into the cold of the night, not even letting her go when she felt heavy. He had to get her safe, that's all mattered. He wrenched open his car door, placing her across the backseat, stuffing a jacket onto her. "Call Harry," she gasped out, once the engine purred to life._

_He scrambled for his phone, hand shaking over the buttons. His other shivered over the console, gripping the gear and moving to the steering wheel. Succeeding in his task of dialling, "Harry?"_

_"Niall?"_

_"I'm going to have the baby," he blurted out._

_"Niall!" She screeched from the backseat._

_"Sorry, Bria's going to have her."_

_It took a minute for Harry to answer back, the sound of something dropping in the background was heard. "Goddamit, get her to the hospital. Now! I'm on my way."_

_Niall nodded, though the latter couldn't see. His phone flew out his hand to fall into a compartment. He cursed himself mentally, for not cleaning his car. It smelt like a septic tank, he didn't know how Bria was managing to even breath. It was when he's pulled out of parking that she shrieked out in pain. He flipped back, eyeing her breathlessly. He didn't want to admit it, but if he lost her, he'd never forgive himself. Or Harry, for that matter. "Your pains have started?"_

_"They started long ago, you moron!" She gasped out._

_"No, no, no," he began to panic. "Don't push him out now, we need to get to the hospital! Deep breath, Bri, deep breath."_

_However, she didn't follow his instructions, screaming. "If you do not start the car now, you bleeding son of a bi-"_

_"Whoops," Niall turned back to the front, driving towards the main road, car going rashly over the corners- something he couldn't help. "Moon shouldn't hear you curse."_

_"I'll do more than curse, if you don't get us where we have to quickly."_

_Thankfully, the hospital was only ten minutes away from where they lived, it didn't allow the press anywhere near. Thanks to Harry, who had chosen the correct flat. Niall stopped haphazardly in front of the emergency exit, the car spinning a clear ninety degrees, before halting with a harsh sound. A nurse came running upto his window, demanding if anything was wrong. "She's in labour," he breathed out, jabbing his finger towards a grunting Bria. "Help her. Please." Soon, there was a wheel-in bed rushing towards the back door, and three men hauled her onto it, huffing and puffing. She continued to scream, reaching out an arm to somebody- anybody as she sobbed. He couldn't see her like that. He jumped out of the car, spontaneously launching it to one of the security guards at the entrance. "Park it!"_

_They pushed her along the corridor, the doctor checked her pulse- like it would be a help. The nurses told her to take deep breaths and Niall clutched one of her hands in one of his, running along, but never disrupting their connected eyes."Bria!" Harry's voice came ringing, as he joined the other side of the bed, sprinting like they all were. "You're okay, you're okay. You're doing wonderful."_

_Niall swore he saw her roll her eyes. "I haven't even started, Harrison."_

_Harry laughed nervously. "So far, it's been good." He stroked her face, reassuring both of them._

_A nurse told them to stop when they reached the operation theatre. Harry began to pace along the corridor, massaging his forehead. Niall assured him that it would turn out well, though his teeth chattered too. But, nothing seemed to pacify him. Before they knew, an hour passed from worrying. Bria's gynecologist came out, informing them. "She's doing well. Her body seems to accomodate parturition, she's dilating at quite a speed. Fastest delivery, it'll be. An obstetrician will come, please wait."_

_True to her words, another doctor came out, pulling her mask down. "We need the father to accompany us in the theatre. Which one of you is it?"_

_"Me!" Niall and Harry shouted in unison. Harry turned to glare at Niall though._

_"Well," Niall quipped in hurriedly. "He's the father, but I'm the husband."_

_A confused expression crossed the woman's face, but she recovered fast. "Alright, both of you follow me. The due-date was scheduled to when?"_

_"She's past three days of her due-date," Harry called, wiping the sweat on his brow. He was sweating buckets since the news reached him and oxygen just didn't like his lungs. His eyes flickered down to Niall's, the corner of his mouth whispering. "Since when are you the husband?"_

_"I care about Moon and Bria just as much you do," Niall retorted, and it shut Harry up._

_"A labour can last up to ten to twelve hours, but this explains why she's dilating at a fast rate. She already at seven centimeters, but, we'll have to start with it. The umbilical cord wrapped itself around the baby, which will take more effort than usual," the doctor said, cutting their conversations off._

_They began to walk towards the room, but Harry didn't want to move. "It won't take her life, will it? " he found himself asking. The cancer had already damaged her body enough, the birthing could permanently do something to her and bring the chances of her death closer than anticipated. When the doctor assured that it won't, he caught up with them. But he saw the un-certainity in her eyes._

_The doors to the theatre flew open. Bria -who had been changed into a hospital gown- was on the birthing chair, sweating harder than Harry. Drop by drop, it rolled down her forehead and dampened the collar around her neck, also lining her upper lip and washing her hair. A cloth was draped over her legs and a nurse was feeding her ice chips. She crunched them between her molars as she cursed God for existence. The doctor's face wasn't affected though, she was too stoic for the scene, but she's probably done it loads of times. "Lads, take either of her sides and encourage her to push."_

_Niall was the first one to be by his side, coaxing her to continue. "Push, Bria, push."_

_"An hour ago, you were telling me not you, you nutter!" She gasped._

_"And, now, I'm telling you to," Niall shouts._

_"Don't tell me what to do!"_

_"This isn't the time for bickering, you two!" Harry screamed, glaring at his band-mate. The night had only just begun. There was a long way to go. Perhaps days, months and years._

_\---_

Upon seeing the familiar house, Moon dives out of the car as it rolls to a stop and sprints right towards the door. Gemma hasn't even caught up with her; instead she shouts at her niece to slow down before she hurts herself. But, then, again when did Moon ever listen to anybody.

She rings the doorbell and the intercom doesn't answer her like it's supposed to. Instead, a homespun face greets her by immediately opening the door. They're wearing identical smiles. Anne looks as lovely as she always did; greyish hair wound up in a wispy bun, smelling like a garden of lilies and her eyes twinkle like her smile. "Moonie!"

"Grandmumma!" she lunges forward and bunches her into a tight hug that has her gasping. Anne laughs against her ear and reciprocates while Moon catches a whiff of her lovely scent. It's been way too long; with Harry tugging an arm and Anne tugging another. The battle had come to an end- a good end. "It's so good to see you," she breaths. 

"It's so good to see you, sweetheart," the woman says, pulling back and grasping the latter's face in her hands, kissing her forehead. "You've grown taller... and leaner. Have you been eating properly? That father of yours falls into work and doesn't let himself get pulled out of it. You keep him in check more than he does for you."

Moon laughs, happiness heavy in her lungs. She lets herself be pulled into the house. "You know I eat like a pig. I'm doing alright." She doesn't let slip that she's been living in a different father's house. It wasn't time to induce impromptu heart attacks. She finds Grandpa Rob waiting in his armchair and runs to hug him from behind and the sound of his raspy chuckle and rough peppery beard when he kisses her cheek is enough to make her feel warm.

They sit at the dining table with scalding hot cups of tea sans Robin who'd gone down to the mechanic's. It's Earl Grey; weird on her tongue rather than the Yorkshire she's gotten used to. The scones that her grand mum had made still  manage to magically melt in her mouth and leave her in awe the same way they did when she was small. "How's London? Are you bugging your aunt enough?" Anne asks from across her, humming into the rim of her cup.

"Oh trust me, Mama," Gemma says airily, sharing a knowing smile with her niece. "I don't see much of her lately. It's only for namesake that she's there, or else she's out and about. It's art classes, and roaming and meeting new people. I daresay she likes it better here than the States."

Anne looks at her quizzically. "Is that so, dearie?"

"I do," Moon confesses. "I've always liked it here. Even before the whole..." she glances at her aunt. "Even before now, I always loved London. I love the taste of the rain here and how I have to wear socks all the time and snuggle under the covers. LA is plain boring. It's quiet and nothing's interesting there. I mean, we've only lived there for my whole life, a little change would be good," she suggests, shrugging. "Pappa doesn't take me anywhere. But, if were here, Auntie Gemma would probably take me places herself and force him into letting me go out. We know so many people here, and instead of speaking on the phone, we could directly meet up with them, right?" She pitches in the deal-breaker. "Plus, it would be so near to you all, wouldn't it? We could see each other on the regular. It would be like having home nearby. The thought is nice."

There seems to be a lengthy conversation between the eyes of Gemma and Anne, paired with flurried movements of their eyebrows. Moon watches them back and forth for a while, before Anne faces her. "Reckon you can have a talk with your father?"

Moon gives her a latitudinous grin. "Think I can convince him."

\---

Between stuffing herself with treats and praises and love in the next two days, Moon has plenty of freedom to walk around town. She goes down to the supermarket for bread and the mini poultry farm next door, and she skips her way to her grandfather's work place. The bakery where her father used to work at still stands and she sneaks in there for treats. It's all a little too much for her, but nothing she can't take.

When she gets home, Anne is taking an afternoon kip and Gemma's eyebrows are scrunched with determination as she types something out on her touchscreen- possibly a work-related articles. Moon's never tried to understand journalism. All she could picture was a bunch of reporters following a famous personality around with invasive questions. Her aunt was someone who had things brought to her with only a raise of her eyebrow. Oh well.

Once she's settled back in bed, her phone starts ringing on cue, and she expects it to be her father. Well, either of them. She had already texted Harry a picture with her grandmother, which would only quench his thirst for a while. It would be no time before he called again. But, of course, it isn't him. It's Jesse.

"What are you doing up?" she asks immediately when she takes the call.

"Shouldn't I be asking you the same? It's nine in the morning here," he answers. His voice sounds a bit rough over the phone, but it makes her smile at her bedspread.

"Funny. It's two in the afternoon here." She can only imagine what he was doing at the moment. Probably pestering his mother or rotting inside his shed. Either way, he's taken his time out to bug her and somehow that suddenly means a lot. It was no particular labelled feeling, but it still was nice. He could do nice quite well. "I'm flattered that you want to spend all your cash talking to me on the phone. You know that it costs you if you want to phone somebody in another nation, right?"

"As if I'd do that on purpose. Your dad told me you're horrible at picking up calls. He's come to me asking for help. I can't deny a requested noble deed, can I?" He laughs when he hears her scoffing on the other end. "But, seriously, what the heck? Mr. Styles is worried about you. But, you picked up quickly when I called. Please don't tell me you're in love with me. He'd die of heart attack, your dad."

Colour raises into Moon's cheeks as she mutters. "You wish I was," she clears her throat despite the fact that nothing was constricting it. "I'm just scared that he'll be able to tell when I'm lying."

"Why would you lie? " He's only met with silence. "Moon, what did you do?"

"I might have convinced my extended family and his friends to help me find my other parent," she says fluidly. Then, tacks on to reduce the pressure. "I think?"

There's a certain reticence that eerily hangs between the line connecting them. "Moon," he growls after a while, that it startles her out of her bones. "You're so stupid! This is so expected from you! Of course! The minute something interests you, you go chasing after it!"

"This is isn't about my interest! This is my family, certainly, I had to do something! It's really funny, because you were helping me out about it, only a few months ago," she bursts.

"Have you been successful, then? Have you worked it out with that tiny brain of yours? Did you find your mother?"

His words only continued to fuel a fire inside her. Out of all people, she had expected support from him. Ironic that he was the only one who didn't try to let her give him an explanation. "She's dead, are you happy?"

She immediately bites her tongue at that, regretting the words immediately as they're out of her mouth. She shouldn't have burst out, she should have convinced him into her easy flowing situation. "Crap," he breaths. "I'm sorry, Moonie."

"It's alright," she replies curtly. "But, on the bright side, I have three parents in total. So, technically I have another dad. With whom I'm living with currently. Also, he doesn't know I'm his daughter. I know, my life has taken quite a turn." He then, demands a clarification, that she gives him effortlessly. It's always been easy telling him things, because he always made her problems his without admitting to it. He hummed at the right places, kept shut at times and added his own exclamation every once in a while. It was familiar and it was good. By the end of it, she feels better and she's pretty sure he's begin to work on strategies to distract Harry on the whole matter. She wonder why Harry doesn't like Jesse much. It's hard not to.

"When are you going to tell him?" It's the last thing he asks, but the first thing everybody else asks her. She's becoming accustomed to the fact that she doesn't know.

"I dunno, Jes. I think I've got ourselves standing on a firm platform and I would be risking it all by just telling him. Who knows how he'll react, it's not everyday something like this happens," she laughs depreciatingly. "I won't know what to tell him anyways. It's not like I know. I know you have a lot of questions you aren't asking. I'm sorry I can't answer them just yet."

She can hear him nod. "Just tell him before all of this blows up in your face, okay?" He advices finally. And that's that.

\---

Four days later, Gemma and Moon return to London, munching on hobnobs as they grumble about how the elder's leave didn't grant anymore extra days on her applied leave. But, Moon had gotten to see her grandmother who'd been calling her name from a couple of thousand miles away, so it was supposedly fair. With utmost precautionary measures taken by her aunt to see that Louis isn't home, Moon is dropped back at the flat. She has a key and the security in the front had familiarized themselves with her.

She reassures her aunt, who had stopped scolding her about telling him the truth and had let her go with a suffering sigh. The flat is eerily empty without the sound of footsteps or ringing laughter or echoing words. She waters the plants in the balcony, hangs her clothes in the usual place in the back of her closet. On telly, there are constant advertisements of the upcoming new season of X-Factor that's due next year. Louis did say something about shooting sometime late in the year. She wonders if she'll be back in California watching it in a box that probably didn't convey the emotion the right way. Or have him come back on the regular and update her unabashedly about the funny anecdotes that happened offstage. She wasn't even ready to tell him that she was his daughter; she wasn't even sure whether she was or not. Everybody said she was, but it just didn't add up. Sure, they looked alike and their mannerisms matched, but it didn't make sense. Nothing did for the entire summer. She should be tired of deciphering it all out, but she didn't feel the need to give up anytime soon. The same question seemed to revolve around her over and over again and despite turning it over quite a lot, she still hadn't found an answer. Everybody was pushing her like she was the wisest- she wasn't, she was only the weakest even if she didn't like accepting it. How was she supposed to tell Louis that she was his daughter when she herself didn't know how?

It's about eight in the evening, when she's making herself a third cheese toastie, she assumes that her father must be slaving around at work- catching up on work that he slacked on when she was around. He certainly didn't know she was to come today, since Lottie had told him she'd back over the succession of two more days. She passes the time, catching up with Calla and all her other friends before she hits the hay around nine. Travel had worn out her body, aches trembling across her back in tiny earthquakes that sated when she was on the bed sheets. She thinks of surprising Louis in the morning, and immediately she's out like a light the minute she lays down her head.

At around half past one, she jolts awake to a resonating noise from downstairs. She drowsily brushes the hair in her eyes and blinks at her bedside clock which glows the time in a menacing acidic colour. Before panic can particulate inside her, she slides out of bed, only to hear the grotesque sound again. With her sluggishness tucked into a pocket, she silently pads downstairs, only to catch sight of her father fiddling with the door lock.

"Sir?" she asks tentatively as she makes his way to him.

Louis stops struggling with his hands and looks up at her. "Moon," he slurs, blinking owlishly at her in acknowledgement. His eyes are bloodshot and his clothes are ruffled. His hair is disheveled. He swings his arms back to support himself by palming the wall desperately. He jumps on a hiccup. He's drunk. She's suddenly scared.

"What are you doing," she ventures to ask instead of voicing her fears.

"Oh, I'm. I'm-" he gestures at the door inarticulately, letting out a hiccup. "The lock. It's taking some time."

She strides forward fluidly and shuts it. "There you go." He smiles blurrily and begins to take off toe off his shoes hastily. She continues to scan his face. He wipes his sweaty palms against his jeans and stumbles onto the adjacent wall. After a beat, she speaks. "Are you drunk, Dad?"

Louis peers up at her with wide apologetic eyes. "No, I'm not drunk. Why would you think that?" He rushes out, before pausing for a short nerve wracking moment. His shoulders slump as he sighs. "I'm sorry. I am drunk. Friend. I met a few. Friends, they. I didn't mean to. I am drunk. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she says gently as if she's persuading a toddler. Maybe he wasn't pampered much. "Will you go to bed, now? You don't look too well. You'll have to deal with that hangover in the morning again, won't you?"

She moves forward in attempt to catch his arm and pull him upstairs to guide him into his bedroom, but he swiftly darts away. "No," he says petulantly. Maybe he was a childish drunk. I don't want to go to sleep. There'll be reruns of-"

"I don't care what reruns are on right now, because it's too late and you're going to sleep. Don't try to tell me otherwise," she chides sharply. Even though he was her father, it was too early in the morning for melodrama.

She tugs at his arm, but his feet stay glued to the spot. It's worrying that his pupils are blown black. "Could you- could you make me something to eat? I'm hungry," he sounds so small that it makes her want to tell him anything, but she instead makes him sit at the dining table and doze for a while, as she cooks up Chinese noodles while balancing the boiling noodles, the spices and the vegetables all at once. When she produces a plate and places it front of him and nudges him awake, his watery grin is golden.

He toys with his fork, but manages to use it successfully even though he's got grease all over his face. He wolfs down half a plate, burning himself in the process as Moon sits adjacent to him and watches, making sure nothing more catastrophic was to happen. "You know, Moon," he starts off all of a sudden, pushing the half empty plate away from himself. "Can you imagine a world without time?" Before she can answer, he continues. "No, I don't mean time in general. But, if we didn't measure time at all. If it all went without value. I mean, yeah, you wouldn't know the importance of things, but besides that, can you see the negative things being suppressed?"

Moon nods. Yup, he's a philosophical drunk.

"We'd not be born out of regret. We'd urbanize, but we wouldn't compare. We won't look up the stars and wonder how old the universe is or how many people died before you. You wouldn't keep track. You wouldn't be wound so tight, worrying about hurrying and goals and things to do in life. You'd accept things that came your way," he says sagely.

"You need to accept the fact that you're very drunk and that you need to sleep," she says, before she stands up. With a water jug and a glass tucked under an arm, she tugs him to his feet and steadies him as he almost falls. He comes easily as she pulls.

"Sleep would be boundless, there would be no stopping. It would be like escaping the unknown to go into another unknown which is known for it's unknown," Louis explains as he trips up the stairs. "Do you get me?"

"I do," she says, pulling him into his bathroom. Besides his posh shower, there's a lavish sink with mouthwash next to it. She pours a capful and hands it to him. "I love the fact that you're convinced that I understand. Now, rinse please. Don't swallow."

Thankfully, Louis obeys immediately. "Love? That's a whole new other concept."

"It is," she agrees as she guides him to his bed and pats his shoulder in lieu of telling him to sit. She goes back into the washroom to take the jug and glass. "I'm sure you have a lot of time to explain that one," she reasons as she pours out a glass.

"Love is a strange concept. Not anybody has figured it out," Louis says wisely. "Many people have thought they figured it out, but they haven't. It's like the universe, it expands when you think you're reaching the core. It doesn't let you think that you've got it all. But it also lets you into it's arms. It's cruel, but also is beautiful. It remains caring. It takes the shape you want it to be. It'll become what you want, who you want." He takes the glass from her and wordlessly drains it in a go. "Do you understand, Moonie?"

"I think I do," Moon says slowly, she stops midst pouring him another glass. The conversation was taking an interesting lilt. She places the jug and glass on the bedside table, and comes up in front of him. "What are you on about, Dad?"

"Everybody in the world has a companion, Moon," he explains as if he hadn't heard. He probably didn't, as his eyes are glassily staring at something other than her face. "We're ignorant beings, we don't look hard enough for what's right in front of us. Fate gives us a chance to cross paths many a times, but we remain engaged in other doings. And even if we do manage to find them, we let them go because of a reasons only a lowly human being can understand. You'll find them if you look too, Moonie," he glances up, eyes unfocused but stalling on her face. "And if you don't, you always have the next birth. They won't come in like a knight, or a blushing dame. They won't have a halo on their head. But, with time, you'll just look at them and realize that. They're the one. That's it. You're too ruined for anybody else."

"Dad," she says softly. She's been addressing him so the entire night, but he doesn't seem to notice and she can't seem to stop herself. She stretches an arm forward to soothe, but extracts quickly. The whole night was taking a dangerous turn and something in her gut was saying it was not the right way. The feeling puffed up over her chest, but she can do nothing but push it down and listen to her father's drunken, but true words. 

"You see, I'm a lowly human being too," he says with a shaky sigh. The nerve in his forehead has turned prominent against his pale face. "I've had my chance, and I've lost it. I could have still gone back and pleaded with time, but I sat back and watched and did nothing. Or else... or else, Harry would be here, wouldn't he?"

The mention of the familiar name makes her snap out of it. She darts forwards, shaking his knee with her trembling hand. Her eyes grow big with realization and her mouth runs dry. That's her father he's talking about. The one answer that was supposed to tilt her life to a new angle, when she'd believed it was a bottomless lie. "What did you say?" She shakes him more rigorously when she doesn't get a reply. "Dad, what did you say?"

"I didn't do what I was supposed to," he says feebly. A lone tear trickles down his cheek. "I'm sorry. Tell him I'm sorry. I really am. I never- I would never," he cuts himself off with an ugly sob. Then, a wave of tears fall steadily. It pinches Moon's heart till she feels like her nerves might pop. "I'm really sorry. "

Moon sits with him till he can no longer cry. Till his cries have become yawns. Once his breath has evened out against his pillow as he's camped under his duvet, she lets herself cry. If she was meant to be the glue between them, that's what she'll be.       

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 


	7. Part Seven

It's a quarter past eleven in the morning.

Moon taps her fingers against her cheek as her palm holds up her chin. She herself had woken up quite late with a kink in her neck from sleeping in a chair across her father's form with her head lolled back carelessly. She's managed to panic about waking up late, commemorating the previous night while staring at him incredulously. She got herself busy by making breakfast, burned her tongue from eating a bite or two as quickly as possible. She stored them in a hot pot and took tea in his special mug (the ones that made the drink stay hot for several hours, good thing) and takes them upstairs. However, he didn't wake up for quite some time and her bottom was becoming flat from sitting on the chair for so long.

At a bit past moon, Louis shuffles around in his bed, making her perk up. He stretches up, pulling out a yawn with squinted eyes. When he spots her staring at him, he jolts up and sits against the headboard with wide red eyes. "M-Moon, when did you-"

"Yesterday night," she says in a clipped tone. "Did you have a good night sleep? Are you feeling the hangover? I bet you are. Since you were plastered."

"Lord-"

"Do you want some breakfast? I made bacon. Pappa says it's a good hangover breakfast. He's a bit like you in those ways. Always comes back pissed and out of his mind. 'Suppose all men are the same," she says, tone too airy that she scares herself. She places a plate in his lap, shoveling his breakfast onto it from the hotpot, then placing his cutlery there. "Eat."

Louis looks frightened to say the least. His ashen face is drawn tight into confusion as he scrutinizes her. "I'm so sorry. If I had known you were coming home last night, I'd-"

"You don't remember a thing, do you?"

He shakes his head. "My mates must have slipped something in my drink."

"Okay," she says. "Now, eat."   

The fierce words convulse into him, and he begins to trowel food into his mouth as if it was out of fear. He chances looks at her between bites, but manages to complete his breakfast in five minutes. Domination was apparently in her blood, because he seemed still scared to speak up about anything. He continues to watch cautiously and vaguely gestures to his empty plate. "Did I do something stupid yesterday?" He asks tentatively.

"No, nothing much," she says in the contemptuous tone she had earlier used. "Has anybody told you that you're a philosophical drunk? I thought you would be scary, but you were the opposite. You went on about how time shouldn't exist and all that. Nothing stupid though. But, you had a temperature running. Went off with some water and washcloth."

The guilt finally flashes in it's full form, right across his face. "Oh God, I'm so sorry, Moon. I didn't think- I'm. I... I'm so ashamed of my behavior. I should be the one taking care of you, and you shouldn't be put in the spot to take responsibility of me. I'm the elder one, and I haven't been mature. I know I haven't been mature. You have no idea how bad I feel. I swear, Moonie, I will make it up to you. I never meant for this to happen."

Moon definitely has the heart to accept his apology, but she doesn't for the sake of finding out things. It's only  a bit cruel. She takes his plate, and places it on the bedside table, not paying heed to his tea as she picks up the glass of water and a painkiller. She offers it with a grimace, not meeting his eyes. "I dunno which _damn nutter_   encouraged you to drink," she ignores his gasp, "but here, this'll get rid you of half that headache. Better than nothing."

He seems to be mulling over her words, or has accepted his so called mistake. He takes the pill from her and washes it down his throat with water. He breaths out and relaxes. "Are you set? Better?" she questions, receiving a slow nod in return. "Get up, then," she coaxes, pulling at his arm. He looks perplexed, but hesitantly allows himself to be tugged out of bed. "Get up and come with me."

Louis, despite being puzzled, lets himself be led out of his room, to the corner of the flat on the same floor. Moon makes quick action to unlatch the door's lock and pushes it with a heave. A gust of wind bellows out as the door thuds against the adjacent wall. It's the storeroom. It's large and spacious, dotted with boxes that were memories and things that became useless. Things that he ignored from what the dust showed. Like, the room wasn't there at all. "Moon?" He turns to her quizzically. He probably is contemplating shedding all questions rather than to face her wrath, but it was confusing to any outsider. "What- what are you doing?"

Moon continues to drag him inside. They stand amongst the dusty boxes strewn across the floor haphazardly. She lets him stand with a puzzled expression, and she pushes the boxes away; catching onto their labels with a quick eye for the thick marker. When she finds the correct box; the one that was the most intriguing, she shoves it towards the middle, and sits down next to it. Her father keeps staring at her, but hesitantly sits down a minute after she has. She hums, straightening up before looking him straight in the eye. "Tell me about Harry."

Louis flinches, mouth pursing. "P-Pardon me?"

"I said, tell me about Harry. It isn't a question."

"What-" he starts off like he did earlier. He looks at her like there are cornstalks growing out of her ears. Or like she's planned to squeeze it out of him from the beginning; which was a point, but the procedure was quite spontaneous. "Why, Moon-"

"You know what I'm asking you. I know you know. You don't have to beat about the bush. And if you want help, you have the box right here. I know it's about him. If you had so much attachment to that name, you must have kept something related to it. You can trust me," she says solemnly.

Louis's nostrils flare, there's a drift in his features, the curve of his eyebrows slanting into the bridge of his nose and his eyes spark up in blue flames. She can't read him. His mouth twitches. "You cannot expect me to tell you things that you aren't meant to know. You are a guest, and you shall remain a guest. I suggest you stay in your boundaries. You have no right." His gaze is unwavering and guilt inducing, as he stares right through her. Perhaps both her fathers always had violent or dramatic reactions on each other.

"I do have a right, though, don't I?" She challenges with a fierce voice. "I was no longer just a guest when I had to wake in the middle of the night and find you at the door while I was scared to death. I stopped being one when you made me make you food before you let me put you to bed. When you went on with your philosophy until you started crying about Harry." He snaps his head up at that. "You were crying until you got yourself a fever. You were crying like that was the only thing you knew." She exhales, going on in a soft voice. "I know I've earned your trust by now, or else you would be with the cops and not here. You know I'm mature than I let on. You said it yourself, I'm your best pal. Best pals always listen to what you have to say. Whatever it is- murder, burglary, anything- you know I will try to understand."

She leaves the choice in his hands, though she knows that she's pretty much won him over. She watches him for a few long beats, before he drops his face into his palms, groaning. "I didn't know I still cry about it," he says, his voice is flocculent and tired. "I didn't."

"Apparently, you do when you're drunk. Grandmumma says drunken words are true words. And... I have a feeling you've been sweeping it under the rug for quite some time. If not me, you'll have to tell your therapist. You've probably tried that and realized that it was pointless. If you tell me, I may not give you advice, and I may not understand, but you know I'll listen wholeheartedly. You can make me sign those non-disclosure agreement things later, if you need to."

Louis exhales shakily. His eyes widen when they fall on the box. It has a large 'H' scribbled on the top, but his eyes remained glued there. "My bandmate- Harry Styles. He and I. We were together." Moon nods slowly. "We dated, and then we were married."

At those words, Moon's breath is knocked out. "W-What?"

"I think we still are," Louis answers with a sigh. "If the marriage was in anyway illegal, I would have gotten a notice from the Court, but I haven't in all these years. But, I don't think Harry bothered much. He must've forgotten by now. It wasn't a huge thing."     

"What do you mean?" Her voice was a conglomeration of anger, shock and fear. She unconsciously pinches the inside of her own arm.

"It's a complicated story," Louis supplies. He laughs, melancholy colouring the pitiful sound, only making it sound heavy. "Our love was made for the books," he states, a reluctantly hidden smile adorns face as he stares sightlessly. "We met in difficult situations and we were completely taken for each other. It wasn't a surprise when we became each other's sanctuary. I'd say most of what other people said had us thinking. I was trying to maintain a strict friendship with him when the fans -our own bandmates too- were trying to convince to confess something I didn't even know.

"But once we came onto a track, we didn't look back after that. We didn't have a choice. Not with each other, not with any other things. It was so easy at first. Harry looked up to me and it was easy for me to thrive on it. Before I knew it, we were in love and it was going a little too fast for my liking. But I loved the speed and so did he." Louis takes a breath after mechanically speaking. "We didn't listen to what anybody said. Our friends were not sure and our mothers weren't sure and everybody we knew wasn't, but I think we convinced them at sometime. Back then, having an inter-band relationship was not... ideal. Especially when we were world famous. And we were both men." 

Something dark was beginning to shift into his voice. Like choked disappointment. Like resignation. "But, we still didn't listen. It was us against the world, really. There were rumours and cameras and publicity stunts and lying. We wrote songs for each other, got complimentary tattoos even when I hated body art, made too many promises that we couldn't possibly keep. Got married along the way- in 2013. It was quiet. The band-members knew and so did our families. The fans knew because they deduced it; and it became an open secret. But, somewhere along the way, we were beginning to realise..."

He sighs, shaking his head. "It was a slow, painful process; realising that it was all too much. I thought I was strong, but it turns out neither of us were. We were so stuck on proving everyone else wrong, that we had forgotten about ourselves. We grew apart and neither of us wanted to acknowledge it. We didn't communicate properly anymore. He said he was leaving, and I let him. Without hesitating. We kept walking around each other,  avoiding interactions. I had always imagined we'd end up talking somehow in the end... except it never came. We went on a break right after, and I realised I couldn't do anything. But, I think that's what drove the final nail in the coffin. Not seeing him on the regular, along with having a fake girlfriend, made it easier not to think about. After that, neither of us tried to fix it. It never was the same again, I suppose."

Moon's mouth is dry. "Then. Then, what about your marriage?"

"We didn't wear rings," Louis concludes as if it's the most perfect answer. "He did, but I didn't. It didn't matter that they had become a part of him without even symbolising our marriage. After we... broke it off, nobody reminded us that we were married. Everybody sat quietly as if they'd been waiting for it. That or pretending nothing is different because they couldn't believe it. I didn't either, if I'm being honest. I didn't think there would come a time when I'd be tired of it all." He lets out a long suffering sigh once again. "We pretended we were married and we didn't bring it up. It doesn't matter now. Because the records are lost somewhere and nobody even remembers."

"Then, why are you still stuck on him?" She pounces demandingly. "If he left you and probably gotten a life of him own, then haven't you still moved on?"

Louis chuckles. He bloody chuckles. "But, I've tried, didn't I? The first few months I spent partying because I needed to get my mind off it. Then I realised alcohol wasn't helping my case. After that, I thought 'sod it' and dated around. Two women there, a man here. I thought I could move past it the way everyone does with their relationships. I could find a nice lady, or a gent if fate allows it and... settle down, like I always imagined." His smile slowly shrinks into a void of sadness again. "But, I threw each one of them at the wall to see which one stuck and none of them ever did, and if they did, they'd become too much or me.

"As time went by, I also realised that I don't need a partner to sustain the rest of my life. I fell on Earth alone and I will leave alone. Everything I had with Harry became a fond distant memory the more I embraced it. I didn't realise I was still vulnerable about it," he cuts himself off with a watery laugh. "Nobody's probably seen me that drunk in years."

"Lucky me," Moon says to lighten the mood. However, she's sure it won't do much.

"That's it," he says theatrically. "That's the whole story behind me. The whole background when my walls are kicked down. My sob story to the lively celebrity I seem to be." He shakes his head at himself, two hands coming up to smooth his hair back. "God, I. I feel so _pathetic_ right now."

"I think that's a beautiful story," she supplies immediately. She can't possibly give him any consolation since she doesn't understand it all. But, a comment that indicated she had been listening seemed to do well. "Often the world's best stories, are the ones which are sad." He nods, but doesn't reply. His head is still bent, and she hopes it's not out of shame. "Can I open this box? I want to see what your Harry is like. How you make your Harry seem like."

When she earns a tentative nod in return, she doesn't even wait a second before she separates the flips on top to reveal priceless treasure. From the outlook, there are a bunch of photos, a few jumpers and beanies and bracelets, more than many letters that covered majority of the box. Every trinket probably had enormous significance. She couldn't wait to find out what it all meant, but of course, she wanted both her parents to tell her about. Harry would probably start speaking and Louis would cut across with a view of his own. Maybe she'd be happiest even if her parents sat in the same room and bickered. Sometimes she wondered if she fantasised too much, if it was stuff even designed for reality.

Somewhere tucked to the side is a long collage of pictures of them in tuxedos with flowers pinned to their breast pockets; their secret wedding day. Their smiles were so clear and bright -like supernova bursting inside them- and her grandmothers looked younger than ever. Niall and Liam and Zayn never looked so joyful in all their laughter lines that she's seen.

Against the wall of the box, she sees an almost familiar picture. Her breath hitches as she drops the wedding collage and her hands reach out involuntarily to snatch the photograph up. It's ripped down the middle. Harry stands in the frozen moment with his blinding smile, while his stretched out arm is cut off from the abrupt rip. She almost chokes on her surprise when she realises that she's seen it's twin; the mysterious picture on Harry's bedframe when she had thrown his mattress off. A copy of it lives on her phone and her fingers itch to grab the device but she clenches them and places the photo back in the box without further ado.

When she finally glances at her father, she's relieved that Louis isn't crying. His gaze still seems lost somewhere sight isn't, and she hopes that in the near future, he wouldn't have a chance to revisit it for he'd be making new memories. If her parents were never meant to work out, she's hope for their individual happiness even if it broke her heart. She can only hope Louis finds his little piece of happiness. Somebody to tell his woes about without being cornered in a susceptible state.

No hesitance on her mind, she shuffles forward and leans against her father without preamble. He doesn't say anything and neither does she.

 ---

 It takes an entire day to bring Louis out from taking refuge in his bedroom. Moon breaks all boundaries when she wrestles the duvet off his defenceless state and tells him that it doesn't matter that he's shown her his weak side or that he's been previously in love with his ex-band mate. She's only a bit thrilled, but he doesn't know that.

They start out by ignoring the that The Morning even happened, going back to their routines and Moon pretending that she's excelling at her art classes though she doesn't even know what shade 'fuchsia' is. It's only a matter of time that she's popping questions at the interval of a day. Very subtle.

("Where is he now? Harry Styles?"

"Liam tells me he lives in L.A... probably some place by yours. He probably still has that house in Beverly Hills."

"What if he's sold it?"

"What?"

"Erm. Nothing.")

*

("Did you- did you change your last name? Is your name officially Styles?"

"Oh God, no. It's Tomlinson-Styles. He said Harry Tomlinson-Styles had a nice ring to it."

"I'm sure he did.")

*

("Do you think he has a family now?"

"He does. He has a child. Never met them, though. He's probably involved with someone. Good for him, I reckon."

"... you really think so?"

"Are you trying to make me feel better or worse, Moonie?")

*

Or the worst one:

("Do you still love him?"

"Seriously, Moon. Go make yourself useful. My balcony garden requires watering. Go see to that."

"Sir..."

"I'm not going to answer that. I don't have to. Actions speak louder than words.")

Funny thing, only about a few days in, she's teaching her father how to knit over hours. Louis was no getting the hang of it. He kept tangling his fingers in the knots that he didn't admit he made. The yarn in turn decided to be stubborn. He claimed with a couple of curses that there was a reason that machines existed to ease human labour and they didn't need to waste their blood or sweat on doing it manually.

Moon had gotten into a shiny red bus, right after coming out of the community centre where her art classes were conducted. She paid for her fare and plopped into an empty seat by the window. The bus was relatively desolate; which was intriguing as London had a huge population that seemed to love the buses. The day was clear with the wind slithering inside her clothes, the sky wasn't. It was powdered with clouds that were on the verge of crying. The chill in the air guaranteed shivers and the interior of the bus promised temporary warmth. It was good enough.

When she whips out her phone, the screen shows an alarming notification of seventeen missed calls from Gemma. It made bile rise in her throat and fear ran down her spine in a barely concealed quiver. Her eyebrows trembled in confusion. She'd even left a couple of voicemails. Moon's hand shakes as she presses the phone against her ear. There was something. There was something seriously wrong. Surely, Gemma pestered her as much she did to the former, but there were never circumstances where multiple calls were involved.

_"Moonie, I've been trying to reach you. You might not have your phone on you, but call back as soon as you can, please. It's important."_

_"Pick your bloody phone up, Moon Styles! I've been trying to call you for the past hour, but I don't know why you haven't... just call me back. Ground breaking news, I will give you."_

_"Moon. Your father found out. Harry... he got on a plane yesterday. You've made him suspicious enough. He realised when you didn't call on the regular and when I kept making excuses. I'm surprised he even waited till now, it doesn't take a genius to figure it out. He'll be landing in three hours and he phoned me, so excuse me for being pushy."_ Exhale. _"Do something, sweetheart. Time to face the music."_

_"Did you tell Louis? Of course you didn't! Now would be a good time, you know... considering the fact that Harry squeezed it out of me and he's coming for you now. I don't know how you're going to do it."_ Choke. _"Moonie, please try to tell him. Before Harry arrives, at least. You have everything to lose, I understand, but you'll have to tell and the time has come."_

The last one is brutal. _"Oh god, I'm so sorry."_ Sob. _"I failed you, didn't I? I tried to convince him. I really did. He's be here in an hour and I'm. I'm just as scared as you are. I had one job as an aunt, and I couldn't blooming do it! I don't know what will happen after this. I don't- I love you very much, Moon. Don't forget that. Whatever will happen. I'm not on Louis's side. I'm not on Harry's side. I'm on yours. I promise. Everything will be alright. I hope. Please god-"_

The phone drops into Moon's lap as her mouth opens in shock. Her brain is a scramble of thoughts seeking redemption and there's tension singing in her nerves that not anything can pacify. She doesn't realise she's shaking until she glances at her hands through her blurry vision. If she could only name this feeling.

The first thing that pops up into her brain is that Harry will never forgive her. He will never trust her. He will never look at her the same way. She'll be the reason for his heart breaking one more time. The thought makes tears swim in her eyes and she pushes them back with difficulty. The next one would be Louis looking at her like she was an abomination. Perhaps she was. Perhaps, she didn't fit anywhere on the spectrum between them. Everybody who knew about the plan would be so disappointed. Again. Lottie, Fizzy, the two sets of twins, Zayn, Liam... everybody. This was all her fault. All because of her stupid curiosity.

When she gets back to the flat, Louis is there to open the door with a smile. When it's not returned, it falls off his face. He takes time to scan her ashen face as she drags herself inside. "Moonie, is everything alright?"

"It isn't," she says immediately. Then, quickly recovers. "I'm sorry. Just not feeling well. Bus ride was all bumpy."

Louis furrows his eyebrows. "Go on up and take some rest," he suggests.

She shakily exhales but nods. Peering up at him, she manages to catch a last glimpse of him before she ends up leaving and never seeing him again. She's at the foot of the stairs, when she pauses in her steps and looks back at him. "Sir... I. I just wanted to tell you. That. That... I'm very grateful that I'm here and that I ever got a chance to be here and get to know you. It's been a good journey." She forces herself to swallow around the dryness in her throat and tell herself to not burst into tears. "I'm sorry if I've ever done anything to offend you. Or for anything that I will do in the future. Or if anything happens because of me."

She scurries upstairs before she receives a reply. Sometimes not listening can be the best thing.  

\---

Louis had his brain on quite the roll for an hour or so. He turned Moon's words over in his head around twenty times. The dread in her voice made the atmosphere icy for a second; clouded with suspicion and histrionics. He couldn't possibly guess what was on her mind, or what she'd meant- after all, she was a nice girl without a doubt. 

She couldn't have stolen something? The girl seemed so guilty for the snacks she sneaked between meals, it made him want to bang his head against the nearest wall. Or gotten a tattoo. Perhaps not. Or trashed his car. Definitely not.

Could she have sold him to the papers with the secret he had entrusted her with? It wasn't like he had a choice in telling, either way. The words tumbled out faster than he thought they did where there was personified comfort in front of him. But, still. That was a possibility... that wasn't possible with her. If it's one thing he'd learnt over the years with handling so many people from being a celebrity, it was being able to read people. Old people, new people, kind people, dishonest people. He could scan their body language, the twitching in their faces, their twisted mouths, their stances, their eyes and come up with theories (that were true most of the time) as to what their intentions or doings were. Moon... she was a different category he couldn't quite place. She looked at him as if his grief was her own.

He certainly didn't want to go upstairs and confront her on it, not when he didn't know what to ask. Or to find out what she'd actually done. Or even the aftermath of whatever it is that was supposed to happen. If what he thought had actually happened, then, he should have made her sign an NDA or summat. But, she was a minor. He also didn't want to look at the heartbreak in her face when he indirectly stated he didn't trust her via a piece of paper placed before her. He can only imagine that it's not as catastrophic as she theatrically fathomed it to be.

Besides, teenagers had their mood-swings. Moon was thirteen years old and it was perfectly normal for her to experience abrupt sadness or happiness. Hormones were the definite reason. Or so he'd like to think.

The frantic ringing of the doorbell is what startles him out of him thoughts. With a little trouble from his rusted limbs, he manages to jump up and open the door. His eyes fall on... well, an elderly woman who's smile seemed unabashed of her wrinkles. Her eyes were manic, framed with wispy hair fluffed around her face. He immediately plasters on a smile. "Mrs. Schultz, what can I do for?"

"Good thing you're home, dear," she says sagely, her withered voice throaty. "This young couple here had come to surprise you. The woman said she knew your address and the guards let her in, but she lost herself-"

Louis nods dubiously, glancing at the direction in which the old woman gestured at. A strange female hurtled her way, zipping in the corridor, before reaching the spot before him. Her face was concealed though, with a thick curtain of glossy ginger hair that blew forward with the unmistakable wind. She wasn't too tall, and her body was lithe and covered with a sinister black. She huffs and pulls her hair away from her face.

Suddenly, she's all too familiar. Something in Louis twists uncomfortably as he recovers her features. When she meets his eyes, her perfectly arched eyebrows are what shock him into realization. Wondrously, she doesn't seem surprised as he is. Just the little wave of her eyebrows once again when she notices his appearance. He hopes he doesn't look as shocked as he feels.  _"Gemma?!"_

"Glad I hadn't brought a murderer into your house," Mrs. Schultz says lightly, she then glances at Gemma. "Where is that partner of yours, missy?"

"He's on the way, ma'am. Probably got caught somewhere, he'll find his way. I ran away from him. Everybody does. But, he always finds his way back," Gemma answers breezily, eyes glued to Louis's as she utters each syllable. But, for some reason they don't seem like they're being directed to the other woman.

"Oh alright, then. I'll let you off. I need to buy food for my Frizzle," and without further ado, she whisks off before either of them can even say anything.

Funnily, the minute Mrs. Schultz leaves, Gemma's cool façade falls off, revealing a tired face- worry lines, sad eyes, scrunched brows. He wonders if she'll paste it back on once her partner (Lottie had mentioned a fiancé all those years ago) finds his way up. "Louis," she murmurs, finally.

"Gemma," he parrots once again. He's always been eloquent. With his speech, his witty remarks, his songs- but he's at sudden loss for it. He has to refrain himself from screaming out 'what the hell are you doing here'. In the end, he manages to say something that sounds half decent. "It's good to see you. Been a while, but still. Wonderful to see you." 

She attempts a smile, which only looks melancholy with a tinge of uneasiness. "Same. You're looking good. Got up to exercise, at least now?" He thinks it's a try at small talk. He hates small talk, but it's something to start with when they haven't seen each other in years. God forbid, they start talking about her brother- since, that was one thing neither of them couldn't shut up about before. But, when he goes to give her a lighthearted answer, she's speaking again. "I have to apologize, Louis. For a lot of things. For a lot of people. It probably doesn't mean anything, but I guess we owe you that much." 

Louis was caught off guard. It was the second grave apology he had received in one day- both of which were seemingly trivial. The first one was from someone he was getting to know and the second one from someone he knew long ago. Somehow, the two of them felt connected. The day was getting stranger and stranger.

Peering at Gemma, his head couldn't comprehend anything except falling into a spiral of perturbation. She's definitely grown older, age spreading unevenly across her cheeks as she frowns. He'd only seen her three years ago and her brother- two years before that from afar. Her eyes still glinted from the ghost of her youth. As surreal as it felt, he couldn't figure out what exactly had her facing him at the moment. "What-"

"Gemma, I told you to wait for me!" A disembodied voice growls, the sound resonating pairing with the sound of footsteps. Louis's blood runs cold in a way he didn't think was possible for humans. "You pull nonsense like this, you _allow_ such nonsense and run off right after!"

Down the same corridor, a man comes running down with urgency in his feet. His hair is wispy and wild around his face, looking like a slightly deranged flower. His manic eyes seek Louis's and the latter is once baffled that there is no surprise on his face. "You," he spits, jabbing a finger in Louis's chest.

"Harry," he breaths, a tight fist of shock wrapped around his throat. Harry never looked at him with such fire in his eyes. It was love or disappointment or remorse, but never another element. Of course there were fights, but Harry rarely got angry, but when he did, it was gruesome because he had a knack for throwing things at walls.

"She's here, I know she's here," she chants, pushing past Louis with so much force, that the older man jostles back, having not recovered from even the previous chagrin. He tumbles back and watches as Harry maneuvers through the lounge and kitchen, checking even the cabinets and every nook and corner. When Louis shakes the dizziness off and glances up at Gemma, she continues to frown apologetically. As if he understands. As if he's trying. All he can read is that whatever was going on, wasn't going to end well.

"Who's in here," he demands after he's regained his voice.

"My daughter," Harry bellows, rummaging through the guest bedroom. Louis's ex-boyfriend was raiding his house. Brilliant.

"What sort of twisted idea do you have? I do not have your daughter! Why would I-" but Harry was already running upstairs, two steps at a time with his long legs. Louis and Gemma wordlessly follow him in suit with quick feet. Even if the situation doesn't make the slightest of sense, Louis doesn't ask immediately. Honestly, he's a little bit scared.

Harry into the storeroom and then, Louis's bedroom, coming out fruitless with a disheartened face. He advances towards Moon's bedroom- the door is closed and Louis wants to protest because she shouldn't be exposed to too many pop-stars at once, especially not after she knows the truth. Most of all, her privacy was important. He moves forward to hold an arm out for restriction, but Harry has already barged into the room.

He pauses midway as he strides in, probably having caught a glance of the girl. Louis thinks he's going to apologize, Harry's always been a nice person, of course. But, something catches off guard completely. "Moon?" He stammers out, faltering on his feet as he looks straight ahead.

Louis watches from behind Harry as the addressed girl looks up with blotchy eyes and a tired smile. He can't even comprehend the fact that Harry knows Moon. Maybe Liam told him. Definitely. He's sure, until Moon's mouth shapes the words. "Hi, Pappa."

Louis has to clutch at the nearest wall, his knees going weak. _"Pappa?!"_ There is silence hanging in the air. He glances at Gemma, then Harry, at last at Moon. Each expression was versatile from the other. He didn't want to know what he looked like. "I'm sorry," he barks at once. "Can someone tell what in bloody hell is going on here?"

"You happen to have held my daughter hostage," Harry clarifies coldly. His stone eyes hover over him in a chilly sweep that makes his insides go cold again.

"Hostage?!" He sputters, trying to regain a grounded state. After all that has happened, he's glad he hasn't fainted yet. "I didn't hold her hostage! She came here with full consent. She's my- she's my second cousin's daughter. Isn't she?" He glances at a guilty Moon, who's trying to creep away as subtly as possible. "I distinctly remember talking to your mother. I did, that day."

"Erm, that would be me," Gemma pops in slowly, glancing warily between the two men. "I pretended to be, that is. I had to know how she was doing, didn't I?"

"But. Her name... Jenny," Louis begins to say.

"You mean, a mispronounced Gemma," she quips once again.

"Holy-" Louis falls against the wall and slides down till his bottom is on the floor, knees tucked to his chest in a protective manner. He rubs a hand over his face in bewilderment. "What-" he cuts himself off. Moon can feel her heart throbbing in her throat as she looks at him. It's all her fault. He must be thinking the same thing. He trusted her, after all. She could do nothing but feel like crap. When she looks up again, he's looking straight at her. "If you knew everything and you knew who he was, why did you pretend to not know? Why did you come here?"

She doesn't exactly think when she blurts it out. "'Cause you're my dad too."

"What?!" Louis shrieks.

"Moon!" Harry shouts.

"Oh god," Gemma swears.

"What do you mean?" Louis demands, his eyes are raving over her dangerously. His face is contorted into a twisted one that screams confusion. He blinks like he's trying to swim back to the present; to the truth. His body seizes up in shock, jaw convulsing as he eyes her with incredulity. He glances back at Harry, who looks like he's a cocktail of tired, livid and hysterical. "What did you say? What do you mean? Do you know what you just said? What did you say!"

In answer to him, she sighs and points out daringly. Her eyes are now in a light of ferocity. "Look at me," the 'dad' at the end of the sentence goes unsaid. "Honestly, look at me. Don't I look like you? At least a tiny bit?"

Harry's eyes go wide, panic written across them. "Moon, please stop," he begs, voice wobbly. "You can fight with me all you want. You can scream at me how much ever you want to. Let's just go home. I'll tell you everything, I swear. Really." He had probably come to chide her, but settled with pleading when the truth is stripped bare right before his eyes. Down with all the layers, and he stands with his head bowed. So, that meant he did have regrets that he hadn't let go of and he still thinks whatever stood as secret was wrong.

"You know that's not going to happen, Pappa," she retorts fiercely. "We're going to go back and pretend nothing happened and you'll keep avoiding it." Meanwhile, Louis's eyes peruse over her. She was the same, of course. Almost like a partial photocopy of him. Petite form. Freckles dusting her nose. Thin eyes defined by crinkles. Hair like really light copper.

At once, Louis stumbles up to him feet, profusely shaking his head to himself like he's reminding himself to take deep breaths and not freak out. "I really want to tell you all to get out of my house, but I can't," he breaths. "I don't care what you do. This is just a stupid nightmare. I know it is. I'm sorry," he trips his way out of the bedroom, leaving the three of them.

"Moon, pumpkin," Harry sobs into his hand. "You could have asked me. I know I wouldn't have answered immediately, but it would only take a bit of persuasion from you... I'd have told you. But, you came all the way here. I dunno how, but." He looks like he is going to collapse. "This is all my fault. All those years ago, and now. I've gone and done the same thing."

"I told you, Harry," Gemma sighs ruefully. "The bird doesn't always stay in the cage. And neither does a secret. It would have come out some way or the other. I told you in beginning. I'm telling you in this moment. Your secret is the one that let itself out, now."

"What secret?" Moon's eyebrows shoots up as she glares at the both of them. "If I'm the secret, I understand," she shrugs. "You've always treated me like one. At least, don't talk about me like I'm not in the room. My self esteem can't go lower than this."

Harry's harried face undergoes more worry lines with an apologetic look. "Christ, I'm so-"

"No, I'm done with all of this," she concludes theatrically. "Seriously, I'm done. You've kept so many secrets, including the living existence of myself. From me. And I'm tired of trying to be a super sleuth about it because I haven't figured out so many things in my life. I know I sound pretentious. But, seriously, I'm just trying to understand. I don't know the basic things about myself," she pauses to exhale the air she's been puffing in. "But, the worst thing is, I don't know the basic things about you, Pappa. And you were the only thing I knew -was sure of- in my entire life. I don't know your friends, I don't know your colleagues, I don't know half of our family, I don't know that PA you complain about, I don't know what you cry about in your dreams, I don't know about your stories before me." She clenches her fists before she vomits out the worst. "I didn't even know you were married the entire time!"

Harry's head snaps up at once, almost like it was ready to roll off his neck and skid down onto the floor. Gemma is in a similar state, but is articulate enough to question it. It takes around eighty seconds of staring at his daughter till he speaks up, his voice is small and tinny. "Moon, what?"

"Certain circumstances," she growls under her breath. "Have led to me finding out. It wasn't his fault or anything. Let's just say... I came across your marriage certificate. It was my fault because I was snooping around and I've never seen him more embarrassed when I ended up seeing it."

Gemma makes a quick move to furrow her eyebrows while staggering forward, and clutches tightly at her brother's elbow -a gesture to make him look at her- and demands his attention by shaking him. "You said- you said. It was exterminated. You said it was. Harry. _Harry."_  

"No," he slowly says in disbelief. His face looks like how Louis's was earlier. Apparently, they both had their fair share of secrets they'd been unconsciously keeping from each other. "It is. It was supposed to annulled because there wasn't enough proof for it. I thought it was."  

"You thought," Gemma guffaws. She's sounds borderline spasmodic. Like she was going to burst into convulsive laughter any moment. "Harry, you thought. That's far from what could have happened. You thought. Just like you thought raising a daughter without Louis finding out, would be easy."

For just a second, Moon sees red. She straightens herself out,  as her vehement eyes sought them. "For once, figure it out and see how it is for you," she seethes tempestuously. Her feet are ready to bolt out of the room. "I have an apology to make." With that, she's out like the wind. She makes a beeline to her father's bedroom, and looking inside is a notion that is sewn with guilt and she quite possibly can't. But, she keeps her emotions to the side and dangers a peek in. Louis is sitting on the edge of the bed, his front facing her. His head is in his hands, and he's so still it scares her. She wordlessly, and shamelessly strides in. He doesn't notice her presence. She tries to touch his shoulder, but withdraws before she can make contact. She doesn't deserve it. She however, decidedly takes a seat on the floor next to him since sitting next to him is not an option.

"I'm sorry," she divulges, without thinking. But, then, she's always meant it. She doesn't know how many more times she'll have to say the same words till they reach his brain. "I'm sorry. I really am." No reply. "Please, I'm sorry." She doesn't realize she's been crying until she chokes on something clogging up in her throat. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He still doesn't reply. She dares to rattle his knee. No reply.

"Please just say anything. I'm sorry. Anything. Tell me to get lost. Please." She's properly sobbing right now, the sound of her own clouded voice resonating along her entire body. But, she can't stop though. They come like waves. Again and again. Push and pull. She doesn't think she can stop. Or maybe she's crying the tears she's banked up for her whole life. Harry always said she was a quiet baby. Perhaps she's been saving all the wailing for now. Because, goddamn it, she wants to stop. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

After a long minute of the only sound of her cries, Louis croaks out. "You're not sorry you did it. You're sorry you got caught."

That was true. But, she places her head against the bed and wraps her arms around it. She shakes her head to deny it. "I'm sorry I was born," she bawls instead.

Louis makes a pained noise. It's better than not talking. It's better than nothing.

She loses herself in crying for a while since there aren't more words to be said. Neither of them have anything to say for themselves except Moon's hiccupped vindications. It's a only a while before sleep starts to sit on top of her eyelids. She's slurring apologies left and right, carefree if they're coherent or not. If they reach him or not. Right before, she drifts off to sleep, she feels a hand stroke the top of her head. She knows she's only imagining it. 

\---

Moon is awoken from her deep slumber from a frowning Louis Tomlinson. When she opens her eyes, he's peering down at her before he tells her to get up and get ready. She's still puzzled as to why when her head is spinning while she stretches up to find herself having laid against the comfortable sofa across Louis's bed. Definitely, he was the one to pick her up and put her there. Maybe he wasn't as angry as he started out to be.

"Moon," Louis snaps, knocking her out of her haze. "You need to get up and we need to be going before... before your father wakes up. Or else, he isn't going to endorse it."

"What?" She squints up at him, fingers brushing back the hair falling in her eyes. She swings her legs off the sofa and snatches onto a bit of balance. At once, it hits her; they'd planned to go down to have breakfast at Louis's favourite restaurant. It had been generated priorly, only a week ago, to attempt to eat a huge course of a Full English; but of course, things changed course drastically. Maybe he wasn't that angry. Certainly not enough to flush their plans down the drain.

Before they leave, Louis brandishes a note that is stuck on the refrigerator. _Don't even think about running_ , it says, _I have your daughter, remember?_ _-LT_. Moon hums thoughtfully, and scribbles an addition underneath. _He's right. -Moon_.

The drive there is deafeningly silent. Louis doesn't look anywhere except for the road in front of him. His arms flail in jerky movements over the steering wheel and gear, but he drives steadily with his jaw clenched. Moon can hear her own heartbeat in her ears, humming like the tension in her veins. Perhaps, she's scared. But, what for? Her father was a nice man. Maybe she was waiting for him to explode; eyes angry, voice angry, everything angry. To tell her she wasn't allowed -privileged- to have come to him. Either way, all paths left to fear of rejection. But, then again, rejection of what?

Once they reach, she follows him out of the car like a trail of legs as he trudges into the restaurant. The staff recognize him, and ensure privacy as they allot a separate parlor for them; away from the public's eye. Louis orders the decided with hesitance, and the food comes surprisingly quick. It's definitely a save from the fact that Moon's ears can't get any redder with the shared quiet. It comes in with three waiters carrying large platters of baked beans, eggs, bacon and whatnot. With so much food spread out in front of her and her mouth watering, she can't bring herself to feel hungry without the accompanying nausea. Her father hasn't moved yet, either. "Are you not going to talk to me?" she asks after she finds her voice from her missing courage.

He freezes, his shoulders stiffening as he raises his head to meet his eyes. There was a storm building on his face, his brows twitched. She was terrified. "I thought I shouldn't," he explains lackadaisically. "But, you seem to have a lot to say, don't you? Why don't you go ahead?"

"I don't know what to tell you," she states after a moment of thinking.

"That's funny, considering I hadn't really dreamt up everything yesterday." His laugh is hollow as he cleans his fork with a napkin. "Eat. I didn't bring you here to stare at my face." Moon nods tremulously, and immediately places a piece of toast on her plate. "I didn't bring you here just because. I have my motives too." He sighs, clasping his hands. "You have to tell me everything. I deserve to know."

Moon suctions her cheeks in and blows them out. She nods once again and sits up straighter. There was no point to beating about the bush. "I've always asked Pappa if I have a mum, y'know? Because I'm curious, and that makes me so stupid. He never answered. But, he never really answered any of my questions. Why I didn't know anybody or why I wasn't not allowed to make too many friends or anything, actually. I love him, he's my father, but I realized I didn't know him too.

"So, I kept asking about a mother. I didn't know if she existed or not. I mean, I would have had a mum, because there's a picture of Pappa holding me when I was born. So, obviously, where is my other parent. After a while, Pappa finally told me she was dead. But, that was also the same time I looked nothing like him. But, I had found a picture of you. You were young... and you looked like my brother in it. I turned it over in my head so many times, you could be my uncle, my actual brother, my grandfather for god's sake! But, Pappa unknowingly confirmed that you are my dad."

Louis's eyes lit up with panic. "Back up a bit there, he didn't say that. That isn't possible. Did he say exactly that I was your dad?"

Moon contemplates it for a second. "He said you were together at some point and that my mother was just his best friend." He opens his mouth to protest, but she cuts across him. "But, as I was saying, it was obvious, you were my dad. Because I came to convince Aunt Gemma to help me out, and she initially didn't want to, but we ended up at your mother's, and I think you can guess what happened after that."

"So, my sisters knew who you were?"

She nods in reply again. "They thought we were playing a prank at first, but Auntie Gemma told them something that I didn't hear. She took Gran Jay into a room and told her something and she came out and accepted it right away. Same way with all my aunts."

"You called my family by relation even when they weren't related to you by blood," Louis realizes, the light of it glowing in his face. "But, what did Gemma tell them? You must know."

"I really wish I did," she answers sheepishly. "Because it would save us all this confusion. Besides, Pappa has to tell you at some point, just like he has to tell me. Then, you'll believe me. You will," she looks up hopefully at him. "You are my dad. I know you are."

Louis sighs, setting his fork down with a downcast look. "If you're saying that because we look alike, I'm afraid that's a coincidence," he explains like he's swallowing something hard. "I met one of Harry's cousins -think his name was Kenny- back then, he and I looked quite alike, that everyone got us confused at that party. Looks don't really prove anything, darling. Like I said, could be a coincidence."

Moon growls, shaking her head dismissively. "No. No. No. Why else would everyone not deny it? Why would all your sisters -and brother- help me? Why would they let me in, when they thought that it was nothing but a prank before?"

"Hang on," Louis cuts in with a pale face of disbelief. "Who else knows? My mother, my sisters and brother... your grandmother and aunt. Who else?"

Moon bites her lip tensely. "I don't think you can cover all of them on your fingers."

"What do you mean?!"

"How am I supposed to say everyone except for you without sounding dramatic?" She harrumphs once she glances at Louis's dropped jaw and incredulously large eyes. "My family, now yours. All your band- members, I daresay it isn't there fault. But, altogether, it's a large number."

Louis's questions stop there, he ducks his head and rubs at his temples with his eyes clenched shut. His expression was unreadable, having gone through vibrant changes like a kaleidoscope from angry to bitter to confusion to relieved, laced with something Moon couldn't quite place. She couldn't even tell if it was a positive or negative, or even if it was neutral. She didn't even know what she'd expected him to react like. She hadn't even thought something like this would happen, where both her fathers -from two completely different worlds represented in her head- would meet in one place and look to her for answers. Overwhelming was quite the understating word.

After a while of uncomfortable silence, she speaks up. "Are you angry?"

Her tiny voice catches him offguard. He looks up with a start, and raised eyebrows; the lines on his forehead are as prominent as ever. "No, love, not at you," he says gently, with a perfect smile that he plasters on. "I mean, I'm a bit -I'm very upset- that everybody knew before, and I feel like a fool. But, it isn't your fault. You were curious, and you got caught in the middle. I can't imagine how it is for you."

Moon is thankful, but she doesn't say anything.

They come back to the flat late in the afternoon. The breakfast bled into brunch, that sagged into lunch by the time they had finished everything on the table and even ordered seconds. Within a few minutes of their serious talk, Louis went back like they hadn't even had the previous conversation, and Moon was more than glad. The only thing that itched her was the doubt of what she was supposed to call him. Now that he knew the truth, the word 'sir' held significance no longer and 'dad' seemed like a little too far. Maybe she just had to see how the cards played out over the days. So, she pushed the nagging to the back of her head and laughed and stuffed herself like any other day.

The car rolled into the parking lot with a squealing stop. Despite the daylight outside, the garage was dusky, with only the light from the elevator guiding them. Both them go to stand there quietly. That is, until Louis begins to talk. "Moon? I've had the entire night to think yesterday, y'know?"

She looks up at him quizzically. "And?"

"You're not... you're not hoping something will happen, are you? You know, with your father. And... and I?"

Moon's ears turn red as she grimaces. "Of course not," she lies. She did think in the beginning, but now she felt like it was an impossible thing. Fifteen years was a lot of time to recover. So, she's basically is not lying. "I think I'm doing this for me. And for him. But, mostly for him to tell me the truth. Because you're related to the truth. I think we both need to hear it."

Louis hums noncommitably. "You see, technically you are my daughter," he sighs wistfully. "But, technically. That's because Harry and I are still bound by a document that hasn't expired. You are legally only his daughter and there is no way that we can be related in anyway." Moon begins to protest about how she'd explained the same thing before, but he goes on. "But, I've been thinking about the entire night, and... it might be a rash decision. But, I know it's a right but weird thought." He takes in a deep breath. "I wish you were my daughter. Like, actually."

Moon's mouth falls open.

"If I wished for anyone to be my daughter, I think it would be you, Moon," he says. "If anyone could be my daughter in this world, I think you would be. I feel like- like I've become a sort of guardian for you over this month, and if not my daughter, who else will be so strict on helping me take care of myself? And, I've seen you all this while... I think your a wonderful, selfless, beautiful being. I must scold you for planting that idea in my head, because I've lost a lot of things in life. And... if I get the chance of calling you my child, I don't want to lose it."

Her bottom lip trembles and her throat constricts from the tears arising from her chest. She tries not to sob. "R-Really?"

Louis smiles morosey. "Really," he agrees.

She doesn't think at all when she launches herself forward and wraps her arms around his middle, burying her head in his chest. She's tired of crying so much, but this time she wants to. She can't tell if she's happy or sad. It's Louis smiling at her from one side and Harry frowning at her from the other; like her conscience. But, the tears don't come out; her throat caves in and her voice comes out raspy. "I don't know what to say. I-I... I never thought. I don't even know how I feel."

Louis's chest rumbles as he speaks. "Is it a good feeling?" She nods, he laughs in reply. His warm hands smoth back the hair on top of her head, and she's never felt more peaceful than that moment. "Thank goodness. I was beginning to think I broke you."

She's meant to laugh, but she pops her head up. "Adopt me," she blurts out.

He looks scandalised at the idea at first, but melts into the comfort of it. "What are you on about, love?"

"You said it yourself, I'm technically your daughter. Under legal circumstances, you're allowed to apply for my adoption, or you can directly submit papers if you want to adopt me. Pappa won't be able to say no, because they'll ask my consent and I'll say yes!" The excitement grows in the form of light in her eyes, and they grow bigger.

Louis frowns, but mulls over. "You seem to have given this quite a lot of thought," he comments with a dry chuckle. "We'll see about that. It's a good idea, and it's even better if you're supporting me on it, but I don't want to wage a war with your father. We've already... gone too far by now."

The elevator, as if on cue, pings it's arrival and slides it's doors open for them. They step in together and this time, a comfortable silence hangs in the air- coaxing Louis into swinging an arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer. It's the happiest she's been in while, and she certainly doesn't want to think of what her other father will think of it all.

She simply turns towards Louis with a hopeful smile. "Does that mean I can call you 'Dad'?"

He hesitates for a second, and then sighs. "Don't get your hopes up high before anything happens."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update will take longer than usual due to my upcoming exams. My deepest apologies.


	8. Part Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is quite the rollercoaster. Happy reading. Feedback would be lovely. x

"He's left me a voicemail saying he went out on some errands and that he'll come back in a few hours," Moon explains to him when they discover an empty flat. Louis had certainly expected his abashed face to greet them at the door. Gemma leaving was understandable, but if Harry left... he couldn't have, since, he only would with Moon in tow. "He'll come back. Let me know when he does. I'm going to go upstairs."

Louis finds himself absently nodding to her words. Since yesterday, the thought of Harry made his throat dry up and his mouth tighten around it's hinges. He'd always made him feel like that; ever since. Ever since fifteen minutes. He'd always look at the younger man for a split second and glance away as quick as possible before they caught eyes. Or before the image of him will remain in his eyes as a taunting aftermath. He thought it would always be like that when he looked at Harry; stinging.

But, of course, there was never one emotion that Hary brought along. It was steadily several. Sometimes a rather strange conglomeration for something that the twenty six letters of the alphabet did not have a word for. It was fondness, happiness, beauty, and a bunch of positive things that morphed into sadness, anger, and everything Louis couldn't tick off his fingers.

Before he could generate more self-deconstructing thoughts, he goes into his office and listens to a few demos, and contacts his lawyer about certain paperwork. Two hours have passed by the time he comes into the kitchen for a guilty snack, probably a glass of soft drink. When he closes the refridgerator door and turns around, Harry is standing inconspicuously by the breakfast bar, a frown playing on his lips. It scares the air out of him. "Oh," he breaths. "Harry, you came back."

"I did," he agrees. "Like you said, you did have my daughter."

Louis moves forward with a large bottle of pink lemonade and nabs two glasses from the pantry before coming to sit at the bar. "Then, maybe you can tell me what Moon had meant earlier. You know, about why she thinks I'm her father too." He pours the drink into them and places one across him and gestures for Harry ro sit. "Is it because we're still-"

"No," Harry cuts in urgently. "That wouldn't make sense. Either way, she's my daughter only under the grounds of legalities. You've gotten the wrong idea. But, I hadn't known that we were still. Still bound."

"Hadn't you?"

"No, I really didn't," Harry sputters, he glances at his untouched glass as though it is poisoned. "I assumed with me moving away they'd have checked the records and sent you some sort of court notice to opt for an immediate divorce."

Louis hums. "We paid them off to avoid speculation, remember? And, it's not like I didn't want to apply. It just wasn't on my mind for a while, with things going on and I hadn't bothered. Until it was brought up recently."

"Yeah. I've seen that you've told everything to Moon."

Louis glares at him for a moment, words sharp as them come out. "It wasn't my choice. Unfortunately, she'd caught me in a very vulnerable state, forced it out of me while we were sitting in the store-room with our marriage certificate in front of us."

"Ah," Harry revels. "She's quite the drama queen. I would be disappointed if she hadn't done something like that. Sneaking around, keeping disguise, poking her nose in matters that aren't hers; it's very much like her."

"Careful there. Sounds like you've gotten tired of her."

Harry shakes his head with a snort. "Oh no, I couldn't. I love her more than anything in the world. It's always been Pumpkin and Pappa, the both of us. Which is why I was shocked why she'd come looking for you. I couldn't even be angry at her for it. She's always been mollycoddled."

"Yeah, Gemma told me," Louis points out. "Over the phone, when she was pretending to be Moon's mother."

He shakes his head once again, brows raising as if he couldn't still digest the fact that they were sitting across each and conversing. Louis did want to second that, he couldn't believe it himself. "Gemma becomes a kid again every time Moon's around. The pair of them are as thick as thieves. I took them down to the label one day and left them for half an hour, and they were cruising in the corridors with the wheeling chairs, shouting like children." Louis chuckles slightly, to which he smiles. There's a solid bit of silence for a while, after which Harry clears his throat. "You probably have work to do, and I'm not really here on vacation. I've held up a few meetings and that's where I was from morning. But... I was hoping we could talk. Before I leave. I'll come back in the evening, but for now."

"Talk about Moon? And her parentage that seems to involve me by largescale?"

Harry's eyebrows crinkle. "Um, no. I'd like to save that for the evening. I will tell you. No matter what. Gem has already given me the talk that I can't really avoid it anymore, and I will tell you." He sighs ruefully. "But, before that, I think I need to get a lot of things out of the way. We haven't talked about anything. Also, I want to tell you whatever I have to before you... you form an opinion."

"An opinion, eh?" Louis rubs his chin where his stubble has started sprouting. "What opinion could I possibly obtain? I'm dying out of confusion, already."

"I will tell you. I will explain it to you," Harry repeats firmly once again. "But, before that, I want to clear out the air between us. Both of us are clearly ignoring the elephant in the room. The whole... last fifteen years. And before that." Louis makes a surprised noise, stopping mid-sip. "I know it's a bit too late. But, like I said, I want to tell you some things before you assume anything. Before everything changes."

Louis gulps, his jaw clenches. "Go ahead, then. Tell me what you have to."

Harry has a hard time breathing, he tries to map his words into sections and smoothing them into a chain before they enter his mouth. Only, they latch onto the tip of his tongue with utter perserverence. He purses his lips and tries to push them out in vain. They won't let go, they won't come out. At last, he manages to choke something less eloquent. "I don't understand why we broke up," he blurts out. Direct attack, then. Alright. He'll have to do with it. "I mean, I've turned it over in my head so many times and I still couldn't understand."

Louis snorts sardonically, running his finger over the dew collected on the walls of his glass. "There isn't much to not understand. We just gave up. I think we just got tired and obviously, both of us were such work to each other. Our relationship was quite tedious. But, I reckon the whole tedious aspect of it started outweighing the happiness. But, then again. There's a lot I didn't understand either."

"What didn't you understand?"

"Why we thought it was a good idea to date in the first place," Louis says coldly, staring right at him. "Everybody was quite opposed to it. I think I was too at a point. But, I don't really regret anything. We had some good years, Harry."

"We did," Harry agrees. "Why exactly did we give up?"

"You think I didn't ask myself that? If we hadn't... these years, they would've been very different. Whether we were together or not," Louis reveals with a sigh. "But, honestly, what do you think? Why do you think we broke up... in retrospect?"

"What you said. I thought you got tired. Just like I felt I got tired. Of pretending to have a girlfriend, of stopping ourselves from looking at each other, of having to push the single hotel beds together in every bloody hotel room for a good night sleep, of not being able to find lube when we wanted to," Harry draws in a sharp breath. "Of talking, of trying to be okay. Of... everything."

"I wasn't though," Louis says slowly. "I wasn't tired. If anything, I was waiting for the endline to come so we could prove everyone right, but, then our little spat ended up on a huge conclusion." He matches eyes with the latter. "You left."

"You should stop pointing your fingers at me, Louis," Harry warns. "We're both at fault."

"I'm not saying it's only your fault, it isn't," he reasons carefully. "But, I wasn't the first to give up, was I?"

Harry scowls. "Can you hear yourself now? It was a joint effort, it was. I was just man enough to acknowledge it, wasn't I?"

"Oh, are we questioning our masculinities now? You might as well rip your shirt off and flash your chest hair while you're at it," Louis gripes. "In turn, you just let go of the chance of any repair. Do you even remember what you said? What you sounded like?"

Harry couldn't believe he was doing this. He was sitting in his (ex?)husband's kitchen and arguing with him. If he lost just a little more control of his voice, he'd be screaming the walls down and Moon would bolt downstairs like the commenscing of a war, which was close to what it felt like. "I'm sorry I wanted a bit of my sanity left, alright? I was going mad because neither of us was addressing the bloody elephant in the room, like I said. Excuse me but I really don't know what I sounded like. I was sad and overwhelmed and all that mattered was getting everything off my chest and coming out of it in one piece. So, enlighten me."

Louis shakes his head, more despondant than angry. "You selfish bast-"

"Call me whatever you want. But, don't tell me you didn't feel relieved after that."

Louis snorts in reply. "Trust me, I really want to reach out and clock you right now," he drums his fingers on his knees and chuckles dryly. "I felt everything but relief. For an entire week, I sat down and tried to figure out what had gone wrong, why one day I suddenly woke up and realised everything was out of place and you weren't even sleeping beside me and I tried. I tried really hard to come up with an idea as to how to set it straight once again... because it'd happened before with us, didn't it? We broke up twice before that 'cause it was too much, but I always had hope we'd find our way back to each other. But, this time... it felt irreparable for some reason, and I ignored that. I was going to take you out to dinner the next day and have a nice long talk with you about it, but you beat me to it with your own talk.

"You told me you couldn't do it anymore, gave me a complete crap reason for it and I was so shocked I couldn't even ruddy speak," Louis chuckles again, gaze turned down. "You left me with no choice, all my hope flew out the window and I immediately knew I couldn't fix it. Harry, I always gave you a larger say in our relationship. I know it seemed like you were the one following me, but it was always the other way around. You said you were done, and you didn't even hint at wanting to patch up, and I thought I couldn't force you into a relationship you were no longer interested in."

"It wasn't about interest."

"I know, but it took a toll on you, right? If we were better off if we weren't together, then that was a clear solution," Louis concludes. Somewhere in the middle, Harry did sense that the conversation was steering towards himself. Louis had started out with fire in his eyes, a cold sneer on his lip and a passion to fight, but with his monologue that awoke even the dead, it'd turned into sheer resignation. A look Harry was all too familiar with. "That was the end, I thought. It did it. The fact that you just up and left."

"You let me leave!" Harry protests impulsively.

That seems to set his anger off again. Louis snarls exasperatedly. "You gave me the impression that I wasn't good enough to make you stay!"

"That's outrageous! When did I do that? I was the one, latching on to you all the time till I seemed clingy." Harry's nostril flare with the need for oxygen. "You'd just fall asleep on the couch and I didn't even know if you wanted me to carry you into our bedroom or not."

"I wanted you to!" Louis exclaims. He closes his eyes and clenched his jaw. "I wanted you to so I knew you weren't loving me out of obligation."

Harry snorts. "Obligation? If it were that, I wouldn't have even have dated you. If I was obligated, I would have to date all the girls Management set me with. I wouldn't have come back to you by night and cry about it. Or had a relationship with you at all."

"That's why you left, didn't you!" Louis is breathing heavily, but at least, he looks like he regrets his words.

There is a silence that stretches out once again between them. It'd be a wonder if Harry couldn't hear the roaring of his blood inside him. "I wanted you to fight for me," he confesses, voice struggling to stay steady. "I wanted you to fight with me about it. You wanted the little things like carrying you upstairs and letting me kiss you with morning breath. But, all of them added up to this and I wanted you to force me to come back. I wanted you to make me feel loved again. I wanted you to make the big difference."

Louis seems to have digested his words, and he glances down at the table. He cradles his head in his head, fingers massaging his eyebrows as he lets out a deep sigh. "Look, you said you had work and I do too. How about you come in the evening and we can discuss the matter at hand, instead?" He looks up and purses his lips. "I told you, Harry. No point in talking about it now, is there? It doesn't change anything, we only end up fighting." He scrambles up, leaving his glass alone and strides out of the kitchen. "See you," he throws over his shoulder and then, he's gone.

Once again, Harry's alone with his thoughts.

\---

Harry gets back in time for teatime. Or rather a few hours before teatime. He slips the key back to it's usual spot on top of the door frame. He didn't know whether that was safe or not, but he knew it was a practice that had Louis Tomlinson written all over it.

When he saunters into a kitchen, he blanches out at a sight he'd never thought about even in his dreams, even though it was remotely possible. Moon and Louis are prancing around on the tiles, maneuvering around each other in what looks like a cooking pattern. The man reaches for the sugar and vanilla essence and Moon as if sensing him stops her whisking just a moment before he comes and lets him pour a spoonful of black liquid in.

"What are you up to?" He finds himself asking.

Moon looks up and smiles. "Pappa, hi. We're making cake."

"Well, she's making the cake," Louis quips happily. "I'm just assisting. I've never been one to have skills in the kitchen." That was true, but Harry thought it was something that Louis would have become better at when he didn't have someone to cook for him.

An hour later, it's six o' clock and the two of them had winded up their mess of batter on the counters and brought out a semi-fluffy cake that was slightly burnt at the sides. Harry sits at the dining table and watches them the whole time, vindication slowly seeping into them. He couldn't keep his daughter away from her other father; they fit together so well and he wanted Moon happy. Always. Just like she'd looked the entire day. It wasn't fair to her, but he certainly wasn't ready to share her. He definitely wasn't, she was -and always will be- Harry's daughter, first and foremost.

Shortly after, Moon joined the table, sitting adjacent to him when Louis went to check the door when the bell had rung. He comes back into the kitchen with a frown only a minute later. The company following him makes Harry's jaw drop open. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demands instantaneously. His shoulders vault up and pull together tautly.

Liam, at least has the shame to look sheepish. "Moon called us. Well, actually texted me," he pulls out his phone and goes through it. When he displays it to them, it's a hologram of the message glaring out 'CODE RED: COME TO THE FLAT. NOW. I MEAN RIGHT NOW'.

When he glances over at the mentioned person, she has her face in her hands and is trying to slide out of the chair and under the table, not-so-subtly. "Moon!"

She jumps back into her seat with a sheepish expression. "Sorry, Pappa, but I can't be alone with you two! I'm scared you'll start screaming at each other, because I heard you from upstairs and I couldn't help it. So, I called them because they were there during everything and they're probably good at breaking up fights."

"Correct," Zayn supplies in her favour. "Louis, is there a place I can smoke? I'm feeling it."

"How did you two know we were all here," Harry questions at once, he glances at all of their sullen faces. Everybody stares at him innocently, faces blank and he can't help but feel a bit irked. "What do you know that I don't?"

"Now you know what I feel like," Louis mutters lowly.

Harry glares at him for a minuscule moment and turns back to them. "I'm waiting."

"Moon came to us when she first came here and I don't care if you're going to kill me, but I'm the one who told her that our band had five members in total, 'cause apparently you'd forgotten to mention Louis," he says a long breath. "Or purposefully didn't. Now, Louis, smoke?"

"Let me take you," Louis leads him out of the dining area and opens up the balcony for him.

Zayn reaches into his pocket just as the other man is about to leave. "Stay," Louis punctuates his step and flips around again. Zayn's sleeve is pulled up to reveal a nicotine patch. "I didn't really need to smoke, I've been trying to quit since Aisha's come. I had to talk to you."

Louis raises his eyebrows. "Really?"

Zayn nods, he looks down at the ground interestedly. "Liam had his hopes up high when we were coming here. I guess everyone did. I didn't. I'm sure you understand where I'm coming from." He feels Louis's gaze on him. "Things are going to change now. Not just between you, Harry and Moon, but with all of us. This web that you're caught in doesn't just include Harry and his daughter. We've been pulled into without knowing and so have you."

"I'm tired of all these games," Louis sounds resigned, a hysterical laugh lining the words. "I have not the slightest idea of what's going on and everybody continues talking so cryptically, I'm about done with it."

"You've waited for fifteen years without knowing, couldn't you wait for few more minutes?"

"I reckon I could." The blue-eyed man purses his lips.

"See, all I wanted to say is... whatever you do, whatever decision you take after this, don't let it affect Moon. She's never been able to ask out loud, and she's been unaware of her father playing spy all these years. She's had questions all her life and all the answers led up to you and that's exactly why she came here. Whatever you do, don't you dare break her heart."

Louis watches as Zayn marches away, and he waits a moment. He takes just a moment for himself. Everyone was saying how bitter the truth was and he couldn't wait to get a taste. Zayn was uncharacteristically serious and that was enough to frighten him. Not once in the last ten years had they talked in a private conversation. He was digging and digging and all he found was dirt. He honestly would do anything just to know what it all came together as. He sighs, closes the balcony door behind him, and walks back to where everyone is gathered.

"Remember what I told you," Liam is telling Harry, to which he nods. Upon seeing Louis, he smiles tentatively. "Alright, so you both can talk, me and Zayn-"

"Zayn and I, Liam," the mentioned person cuts in.

"Whatever, Grammar Nazi," Liam rolls his eyes with a smile. "We're going to take Moon down to some restaurant. We'll tell her everything, you can trust us on that. Might take an hour or so. Moonie, why don't you go grab your coat?"

At the chance, Harry watches as his daughter scampers out of the hall. Away from them. Away from him. He feels as if she's running from him, for the last time. Like he'll never get her back. He supposes when it's all out, she won't be his anymore. "No, you- I'll tell her myself."

"Will you, Harry?" Zayn gives him daggers through his eyes as he shoots his question. "Will you look her in the eye and tell her? Are you willing to see her disppointed?"

That sends a pang through Harry's chest. It definitely is a blow that enough to hurt him. He looks away and twists his mouth into a frown. "Fine... just please let her down easy."

"Will do," Liam promises and he steps forward to clap the other man's shoulder before he's leaving with his fiance trailing behind him.

Louis stares at him till the front door slams shut, and then he joins a seat on the table across Harry. He clasps his hands together and wets his lips, looking expectant. "About that explanation." He watches Harry with careful eyes, and Harry can feel his heavy gaze even when his face is cast down. Louis reaches out for a glass and the jug of water in the middle of the table, and pours it out and sets it in front of Harry. "There."

"Thanks," Harry takes the glass with trembling hands and takes a small sip before setting it down. He's never felt this terrified in his entire life. He's going to burst into tears at any moment and his bones are going to turnt ashes before they scatter away in the wind. His heart will stop pumping blood and drop into the acid in his stomach. He can't do it. Years, and he still can't do it. He hadn't even thought there would come a day like this.

"We don't have all day," Louis says, he doesn't sound cold though. "You've had years to think about what to say, you can't possibly think right now. Out with it, whatever it is."

Harry blinks down at the laminate on the table.

"How about I ask you a question and you get into telling me the entire thing slowly?" Louis offers, and he recieves a quick nod. Harry can't help but think that the man is going easy on him, he doesn't deserve it. "Who is Moon's mother?"

"She's never had a proper mum, but biologically?" Harry finds himself asking with a little more ease. "It was my friend, Bria. Cambria Walters."

"Were you together?"

Harry is taken aback, but he manages a straight face. "No. She was my friend and my friend only."

"So, a surrogate is a better term?" Louis peers at him, eyes suspecting and unmoving.

He nods tightly. "I suppose."

"What about me?" Louis questions. "I thought the reason would be because I'm still married to you, but it happens not to be."

"It isn't," Harry answers hoarsely. He can feel the dryness in his throat inch all the up to his mouth. He does no effort to drink water once again. "This adds up to Moon having three parents, doesn't it? That isn't possible."

"Two are biological," Louis says slowly as he works it out. "That means Cambria," Harry must be imagining it when Louis says her name with spite. "Is her mother. Which leaves out the both of us; fathers. One biological. One adoptive... right?"

"Right," Harry says. They're dangerously close to the truth, it's terrifying.

"You're saying I'm the adoptive one."

Harry exhales sharply. "I'm saying I'm not the biological one."

As soon as he gets it, Louis's face turns ashen. He's gripping the edges of the table with ghostly white knuckles. His eyes are wider than they were before, mouth opening and closing dumbly. He shakes his head, stills for a beat and shakes it once again. "Sorry, I don't think-"

"I'm not the biological father, Louis," he repeats gravely.

"H-How?" Louis splutters, shaking his head in disbelief once again. "How is this possible? She's... she's."

"She's your daughter," he confirms, and it enough to break the dam of secrets.

"You're crazy," Louis breathes out, a myriad of emotions shining in his eyes.

"I am," he agrees. "But, think about it. Is it not a possibility? She said so herself, didn't she? She said you looked alike. What other explanation is there?"

"She looks like me," Louis realises. "She's a complete photocopy of me. Except her-"

"Her eyes, they're Bria's."

"I don't even know her!" Louis panics, "I don't even know Cambria."

"I did."

Louis's eyebrows furrowed and there was anger pulling a the corners of his mouth. "No vague answers, Harry. Straight to the point."

"I can't tell you," Harry says with hesitance. "Try to understand. Your sperm, her egg."

"But-" he cuts himself off. "Moon was born in 2016, right? So that meant she was concieved in 2015...?" He looks horrified. "I don't remember exactly, but... but there were a few women. That I, er, slept with. I hadn't used protection."

Harry looks up at him with alarmed eyes. "Oh, God, no, Louis."

"So, not a drunken one-night-stand?"

He tries not to visibly cringe. "Definitely not."

"Thank goodness." Louis takes a moment while he's deep in thought. "I hadn't even cryopreserved a sample by then."

"Wait, wait. This is a mess," Harry enunciates. "I'll just. I'll tell you the whole thing. I can't confuse you further." He licks his dry lips and takes in a deep breath. "After we'd broken up, I was depressed. Very depressed, I'm sure you noticed. It had gotten to a point where I didn't care about anything. My friends, my family, my life. It wasn't just the break-up, I withdrew from everything. My happiness wasn't dependant on you, but it without a doubt, was a domino effect."

There's a clap of thunder that startles him. It's probably going to rain again. "The only time I wasn't feeling empty was when I was with Lux. I tried my best when it came to a child, and it pulled me back from my thoughts at most times. But, Lou couldn't keep bringing her around to make me happy. So, that was when I decided I wanted a baby.

"I was too young and I already had a lot of weight on my shoulders, and this would be another burden, but I didn't care. I went to Niall first and told him. I told him I wanted to be a father," Harry explains slowly. He's slightly wary of using his mate's name, but he must. "He screamed at me first, then he didn't talk to me for two weeks. But he gave in when he sensed my desperation. He thought a new start a bit before the starting of the hiatus would do me good."

Louis glances over, his eyes solemn. "Niall?"

"Yeah. He didn't want to at all. I was the practically running from place to place, to the hospital, a number of clinics, checking ads for hiring surrogates. He stood just as shadow, he didn't support me, but he didn't discourage me either. Soon, we found a surrogate with a lot of difficulty. There weren't many who werre ready to have an unknown man's baby because I couldn't tell them I was me. I was losing hope because the surrogate who'd taken the offer, denied it later on and the clinic was telling me my sperm sample couldn't be stored for longer."

"But, your sperm-"

"Let me finish," Harry requests softly, his voice is falling more and more in lament. "I was crying my eyes out, sitting on the clinic benches and a woman walks up to me and asks me what is the problem. I knew I had to make her sign an NDA if I told her, but I did, and she offered to be my surrogate without hesitating."

"Cambria," Louis points out.

Harry nods. "Niall, her and I clicked immediately. We became good friends. It took me a while to open up to her, and I told her about you. In return, she told me about her cancer." Louis gasps under his breath. "She didn't have parents, and her cancer was bound to be back. She was lonely, and I guess she wanted to enjoy the last of her life. We were on our last tour when she ended in the hospital and she passed away when Moon was around two years old. It was another dark period for us, but Moon made me get better again, just by letting me focus on her." He looks up and sees Louis watching him intently. "Do you understand why I wanted Moon? I ruined my relationship with you with no return. I kept hoping we'd get back together, but hoping I could have Moon too. But, you see, there was only one solution, because I could have only one of you. Either way, it would be the same."

"She's my daughter," Louis says. "You had my daughter. How?"

"Are you prepared to know?"

"I dunno..."

Harry clenches his fists and tells himself to calm down. This was the end. He would tell it all, and the secret would be out and the entire world would hate him. He was going to explain to the father of his child how she was born without his consent. He was finally paying for his actions. "Do you remember in last of 2015 when all four of us- Liam, Niall, you and me. We went to A&E and we all thought it would be cool to get our semen tested? We wanted to find out sperm count, remember?" He doesn't give a chance for Louis to reply. "I was scheduled for a sperm collection the same day. You thought you discarded your sample. You didn't."

Louis looks like the breath had been completely knocked out of him. "Y-You. You s-stole my sperm."

"I did," Harry admits with resignation, his tone low and timid. He accepts he's done wrong, and he stands guilty for it. "While you weren't looking, I exchanged our samples and you poured out mine down the drain. Her birth certificate says my name, because I paid them off into not doing a DNA test."

Louis stares incredulously at the tabletop.

"Please say something," Harry pleads.

Louis remains silent for a few more nerve-wracking minutes. It's enough time for Harry to feel like his pulse was going on his last beats.

That's when the doorbell rings.

\---

Louis is up and out of his place, his feet trip over nothing, walks straighter and strides out of the dining hall. He was running as farther as he could from Harry. He needs to sleep for a while. He didn't want to think. Whether it was real or not. A half of him claimed it was real and the other half said it wasn't. He didn't know what to believe. He just wants to kip in and forget for a while.

His ex-boyfriend stole his sperm on purpose and the secret was kept from him for so long. Now, he understands what everybody meant when they were dramaticising the whole aspect, because that's what it was; a crapload of drama. But, initially, it was an effect that was caused due to himself. He should have dome something. He should have tried to win Harry back before anything happened.

Even for the tiniest of seconds, he can't help but think Harry is delirious. Nobody stole their partner's gamete to have their children. It was wrong on so many levels, and all Louis could feel was disappointment from top to bottom. Moon was his daughter, she was truly his daughter, and he now saw her in a completely different light along with the regret of not being to watch her grow up. It was Harry's fault, and indirectly his own.

Moon, Zayn and Liam were probably back. He can't imagine how she must be feeling, when she'd been living a lie the entire. But, he holds himself together when he opens the door. Instead of three people, there is one. The man of the hour; Niall Horan. He feels the anger surge from the tip of his toes all the way up and it's something he can't suppress.

Niall seems consterned. He's wearing sweatpants and a polo shirt, beard thick and unshaven. His duffle bag is dropped at his feet and he's slightly heaving. "Louis, what's going on, mate?"

"Funny question, Horan. I've been asking the same thing until a while ago." He smiles in a sickly sweet, angry way. Niall must notice that it is a usual vehement action of his, he pales. "C'mon in. Was just thinking about you."

"Moon messaged me today morning. She told me only a bit, and I don't know what the blooming hell is going on. I hopped on a plane immediately and came by. What happened? Where's Moon? Where's Harry?"

"Thought we'd exclude you from the lovefest, Niall, because we didn't." He leads him into his study without thought. He makes a show of locking the door and turns back to him. The younger man is still pale, curious blue eyes standing out. "Awfully faithful, aren't you, Nialler?"

"Don't call me that," he snaps.

Louis tuts. "Getting defensive over a petty thing. What about me? How defensive should I get? A child. Not a petty thing, innit?"

"Louis..."

"Do you know what the definition of trust is? It's the firm belief of genuineness in someone. I'm telling you because I don't think you seem to know what it is. Do you?"

Niall's face crumples and turns a alarming shade of red. "Knock it off, Louis. If you're going to act all dark and dangerous, I'm out. You found out, that's good. There's no turning back time now. Yes, I helped Harry plan this out. Now, let's go back out and plan how you both will raise Moon, isn't that a bigger concern?"

"Will you look at that? Niall Horan and his golden words, he thinks he can go around and do anything because it doesn't matter. Because people don't have feelings."

His eyes soften. "Louis, look..."

"No, you look, Niall. Just imagine your ex-boyfriend's daughter turns up at your house one day and you don't know but you still take care of her until her dad comes back to take her, but you get to know that she is infact your daughter. How do you feel now? Please share it with the audience."

"But, is there much you can do now? All that matters is you fighting to keep her-"

"You had no right," Louis says quietly. His voice is just a shiver. "You have no right."

"Don't talk to me about rights, Louis."

"You tricked me," Louis accuses.

"You left me no choice," Niall says airily. "Neither of you were pulling your heads out of the ground and I had to do something, didn't I? The result was Moon. You don't regret her."

"You chose his side."

Niall laughs sardonically, eyes nearly murderous. "Oh, it's his side now? Remember when it used to be both of you on the same side? But, then, I was left as your caretaker trying to hold both of them together, wasn't I?"

"You fooled me into making a child."

"I did."

"And you have nothing to say for it?"

"Your distractions were parties," Niall answers with a snort. "Harry's was Moon."

Louis bellows. "From my sperm!"

There was a banging on the outside of the door. A persistant banging. It was Harry. "Louis? Niall? Both of you come out. Now."

"In the end, everything revolves around Moon. Her needs, her necessities, her choices. I don't care what you do, but both of you will fix this mess you did fifteen years ago, pull yourself together for your daughter. We all got pulled into this, and you know that. I won't hesitate to poke me nose in," Niall threatens. "Take your decisions, or I'll have to take mine and they won't be pretty. Just like how I decided to help Harry."

"How _dare_ you," Louis prompts, he's seething. There's steam in his ears and he can feel it in his eyes. The knocking on the door was getting harder and faster. "You take decision-taking to a whole new level, don't you?"

"I'm sorry," he says with a roll of his eyes. "But, you both were so down in your misery, and you forgot to get off the ground, dust yourself up and work for it. You clearly couldn't realise you still had feelings for each other. I obviously had to step in."

Louis shakes his head fiercely, fist unclenching as he shoved the latter's shoulder. "You have no right," he repeats though grit teeth, ignoring Harry's shouts.

"I had no right?" Niall asks rhetorically as he points to himself with a sarcastic smile. He huffs out a reluctant laugh. "I don't have a right? If anybody has a right, it's me. Very funny coming from you. I have every right to say everything I want. Who encouraged you to pursue Harry? Who gave you confidence when you needed it? Who constantly reminded you that you were the best no matter what? Who stuck their fingers down your throat after a night of excessive drinking? Who tended to your needs when you sought out to get high? Who, tell me, let you cuddle them because you couldn't sleep? Me, that's who. _Me_. I did all that, I have every sodding right."

Louis's eyes flicker viciously.

"You both were so full of pride, so high up in your thrones that I was made to sit and watch. Both of you, pathetic losers. I couldn't do much, and I still can't. You're probably daft enough to not notice that you're still so hung on each other," Niall says with a sneer.

That's the exact moment when Louis loses it.

He launches forward and then, suddenly Niall is on the floor with a grunt. Louis doesn't think when a punch from his fist falls on the latter's jaw. He doesn't register the pain. All he can feel is fire, fire and fire. It's in veins, and it's probably in Niall's too, because he drives a hard elbow into his stomach. Louis has had his fair share of friendly grappling with Niall. Hell, with Zayn at some point and Liam- for years. They were young too. But, this wasn't anywhere near grappling. Neither was it friendly. They were pulling at each other's throats with growls, it was safe to say it wasn't friendly.

Suddenly, the door to the study bursts open, Liam stumbling in with force. He broke it open. They've been fighting, Louis realises as he sobers. Niall and him, they never fought like this. He definitely had a black eye, he couldn't see.

What was unnerving was the fact that Liam looked as lethal as Zayn did earlier, probably even more. He moves forward and separates them in different directions with his hard palm. _"What do you think you're doing?!"_   He barks, his face gone tomato red. "We leave for an hour and this happens? Niall, did you come here to start _this_?!"

"I'm pretty sure it wasn't me who started it," Niall guffaws. His bottom lip is swollen and bust open, he peers at the doorway. "Hi, Moonie." 

Louis had completely forgotten. He tries to look at the door with his good eye. Zayn has his jaw clenched, watching them like they're no good. Harry grips the doorframe and the shock is evident on his face even though his head is cast down. But, the worst is Moon. She's standing in the room, a few feet in front of Harry, pain stricken eyes filled with tears. She looks so disappointed, it sends a searing pain through his chest. "Moon..."

"Don't talk to me," she snaps, and all gazes are on her. "I expected you handle this in a mature way, but clearly, you don't know how to do that. First option is just to jump each other, isn't it?"

"Moon..." Niall sounds as apologetic as himself.

"You're grown men," she bites out. "What are you doing," she sobs once, tears coming out steadily. "I didn't expect this from either of you. You were supposed to talk. I didn't just call everybody here for fun. I know this whole thing started with your band, and I wanted to end it with that. I wanted to leave or stay knowing everything.

"I can't believe this," she wipes her eyes with her knuckles. "You're fighting. With fists. You're fighting over the fact that I was born." Everybody remains silent. "Then, I shouldn't have even been born."

Louis shook his head, and Harry spoke up. "Pumpkin, no..." No child should ever feel like that. They shouldn't have to feel like they didn't exist. It was all their fault, everything.

"No, Pappa," she says fiercely, she's still crying. Louis have never seen her cry so much, and it breaks her heart. "You shouldn't have done this. How could you? This isn't the correct way. Kids are supposed to be born out of love, not because of anger or madness."   

She hiccups. "You put your friendship on stake for me because of me," she then points to the injured men on the floor. "These two took it to another level." She cries louder, cupping a hand over her mouth. "But, you know what, guys? I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask to be born, or to come between all of you. I didn't."

Niall begins to speak just as she lands her eyes on him, and she cuts him off. "You knew this would happen, didn't you? You knew there would be a day when you contest for me. You knew everything was going to go bad. Why did you sign up for this? Huh?" When he starts to say something, she sniffles. "I don't even know anymore. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I tried. I'm so stupid. So _stupid_. What was I _thinking_?"

Zayn seems to melt and he goes to grip her shoulder, but she flinches away. "It doesn't matter anymore," she swears, then she turns around to look at Harry with sad eyes. "Let's go, Pappa."

"Moon-" Harry begins.

"I don't want to be here, let's go."

Louis ignores the pain in his face and tries to look at her. "Moon, please."

"I don't belong here," she says conclusively. "Let's go."

Louis is exasperated and crushed at once. "You can't expect me to forget everything."

"You have to," she snips. She snatches her father's wrist and drags him away from the room with last stomps, Harry's distressed eyes latch onto his for one last moment and then he's gone. Liam is quick to dart out of the room and go after then, but to no avail, the door slams shut. She'd left. She was ashamed of him, and she left. Leaving her traces, her memories and perhaps his broken heart right there.

With Zayn's unimpressed eyes on him, all Louis can feel is regret in every cell of his body. His daughter is gone because she is chagrined of him. He's nearly broken his friend's face, and probably their friendship. His other two friends, in most likelihood will never speak to him. Most of all, he let Harry get away the second time.

He's just another man, riches to dirt, lying on the floor with nothing in his life.

 

 

 


	9. Part Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end. Happy reading and thank you so much for sticking to this fic! Feedback is appreciated! x

There is an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air. Louis was seated at the dining table, looking down at his clasped hands pinching his fingers till all he could feel was pain. He had to keep reminding himself, that yes, whatever happened half an hour ago did happen. It wasn't a dream, or a nightmare. He can't erase the image of his daughter's crying face from his mind's eye.

Was he supposed to feel angry for what Harry had done? Was he supposed to be happy because he had a child of his own flesh and blood? Because he wasn't possessing either of those emotions. There was a bit of leftover disappointment wading in him, but that distilled out into feeling numb. He felt like the biggest plonker on earth and it set off an existential crisis that he wasn't asking for.

Harry had betrayed him. But, was he angry? He couldn't place it because the feeling of delight that Harry was back was more. Numbness. That's all he could put a name to. The tape of them walking out was on a loop in his head and he wanted to thrash himself. This betrayal wasn't fitting in any of the biggest categories; money, power or sex.

What exactly was he fighting for? Until a while ago, he was happy. He had the life, a couple of friends, the potential to be a judge. But, all of that wasn't holding to this. He was vulnerable on the inside. They were all nothing. He could still be happy, but in the favour of removing the fact that he has a daughter from his head.

He cranes his neck to the lounge. Liam and Zayn were having a conversation that was lower than a whisper. Niall was still in the study. He decides that it's his turn to apologise. He's done some wrong too. He grabs two packages of frozen peas from the freezer and tentatively walks into the study. Niall's dead eyes stare at the wall with no focus. His ex-band-mate was as reduced to a small form as he was. He didn't know what Niall went through, he couldn't compare.

He plops down next to him, and Niall stirs, but continues looking ahead. "Here," Louis offers one package of peas. He then presses his own to his eye, groaning out of relief.

Niall hesitates before taking it from him and dabs it his mouth gingerly. "Clocked me pretty hard. Good shot."

Louis hums. "You weren't that bad either. Impressive black eye. I can pass off as ugly now."

"You can pass off as ugly even without the black eye."

"I'm sorry," Louis says, and the words feel meaningless. "I should have listened. I know you would've done the same for me if I'd been in his place."

"Damn right, I would've," Niall swears. "I s'ppose I could see this coming and I still provoked you." His gaze shifts a few inches up on the wall and he lets out a shaky sigh. Zayn and Liam had roamed to the doorway, watching them cautiously. "Look, Louis. I've always been horrible at keeping secrets. There were so many, and I don't think you understand how hard it was for me. You think we built this whole thing up, but in real... it just led up to all this, and I don't know whether to feel sorry or not. Certain aspects I am, a few I'm not."

"Like what?" Louis questions slowly once he turns it over in his head.

He remains silent. In the meanwhile, Liam and Zayn sit by the doorway. And it's all four of them sitting on the floor.

"You've kept quiet for years, and I think I deserve to know what it is. If it's about my daughter, and if it's about you, I want to know," Louis persuades. "I don't like secrets."

"I've not told this to anybody but me brother." There is a shiny sheen to Niall's eyes when he casts his head down. He puts his frozen package aside and wrings his hands till they crack. It's all an excuse to snatch up some time, that tactic. Louis would know. "Moon... she wasn't just my niece, or my goddaughter," he confesses. "We were related," he dawdles. Louis can't help but feel the dread creeping inside him. Harry had forgotten to mention this, clearly. What way could they have been related? "In a way...

"Bria... Moon's mother, she... she was me wife. Not the recent one, but the one before that."

"Sorry, what?" Liam pipes, he looks scandalised. "Cambria. Cambria was your wife? You were married before?"

Niall nods, expression sombre. "Harry, her and I were friends at first. I didn't want to like her, but somehow it happened even when we didn't want it to, and then we were suddenly married three months after Moon was born. She was wonderful, she was full of life, and despite being my wife, she teased me with all the people I was publically linked with. She'd boss me around, but she was there. She was there for me. I thought, in my entire crazy life, she was the only normal thing. But, then, nothing about her was normal," he chuckles to himself, a sad smile adorning his face as he eyes the floor. "The four of us, we were in a bubble. During the hiatus, it was only us sitting in Harry's house and just... living. I'd gotten attached to Moon so much, I know I wasn't supposed to, but you see, she's the only thing I have that's close to a daughter.

"I thought everything was good. Two years later we were back on tour, because we'd delayed it already and we couldn't waste another year. But, that was the time her cancer chose to come back. She didn't tell me, she never did when she was in pain; that selfless woman. I loved the crap outta her. I'd beg her to tell me what was going on and how she was doing, but she wouldn't because she thought I had worse things to worry about.

"So, when I got the time, I was on the phone with her, or I was Skyping her. Otherwise I was on a plane to see her whenever. Right in the middle, she landed herself in the hospital. When I went to see her, she looked horrible. She was so beautiful, so radiant and there was this... parody lying on the bed. She was nothing but bones and I don't know how much energy it took for her to smile at me. Do you remember when you lot thought I was leaving the band too because I took a break in the middle of the tour? I was tending to her, though I couldn't do much.

"She would leave any moment and I wasn't ready, not at all. I had wasted so much time without her, and with her. And I was regretting it so much. I reckon she was it for me. She would leave, and there would be other woman, but none like her. There isn't. Anybody like her, I mean. So, I was spending every minute with her. I would sleep two hours a day and wake up scared. There wasn't much for me to do. I played music and read books to her. Made her laugh. Watched her as she slept.

"This one day, I had been up for two days straight and it was getting to me, and she told me to sleep. I thought, how long would two hours be?" Niall presses the heel of his palms to both his eyes, taking a deep shuddering breath. "I was so deep asleep, that I hadn't realised. A nurse was waking me up, and nobody was telling me anything. But, when I looked her, she wasn't breathing. She had passed away."

He shakes his head torpidly. "She died while I was asleep across her and I wasn't there. Nothing would change that. Not the thousands of hours of therapy I went through, or the times I sat with myself or Harry to think it out."

Louis's frozen peas have made a pool of water on the ground, and he sets it down. He doesn't know what to do. He himself had been kept away from someone for so long, but his friend had lost someone. That was definitely bigger than anything that could matter. "Niall..." he says gently, tentatively reaching out to squeeze shoulder. He does an attempt in bringing him closer, and Niall comes easily, leaning his forehead on the juncture of his shoulder. "Mate."

Niall pulls away, laughs deprecatingly and wipes his bloodshot eyes. "I'm fine. I'm alright. The thought of her is just..." he takes in another deep breath. "Moon is the only thing left that resembles Bria, and honestly, mate, she deserves the best. I want you to go back and do something."

Louis's jaw is locked tight, there are so many thoughts churning up a storm in his head, he's not quite sure what to do with it all. "You helped Harry, Niall. But, this time I need your help. Will you help me? I want Moon... and maybe even Harry. Will you help me? Will you help me get her- them back?"

Even with his sad eyes, Niall is able to crack a smile. "Of course, man. 'S what I'm here for."

\---

He offers Niall the guest bedroom, it's the least he can do for pouncing on the chap. It is accepted hesitantly, but it feels relieving that Niall won't hold a grudge against him. He doesn't know what to think when Niall bashfully asks him for a sleeping pill, and so he pulls out his old stash and tries not to think about it too much. Within minutes, with the lullaby of the rain drumming on the windows, Niall is out like a light. He lingers a few moments in the doorway, and shuts it after him.

Liam and Zayn take leave after a cup of tea with a side of no conversation. The entire two days were so eventful and all Louis wanted to do was sleep and he was very sure he was going to lay awake in his bed. He couldn't sleep if he tried. The thoughts were turning gears in his head with such friction, it was starting to hurt. He was even out of his migraine medicine and he wasn't even up for researching natural remedies. Maybe the sleeping pill was a good idea. Or not, as he didn't want to get into that habit again.

Zayn pauses in the doorway as they leave, and he looks up at him with unwonted eyes. Liam looks as if he wants to tug him out and away and never come back. "Louis, see, I don't know what to tell you. I can't give you advice or wish you luck. There is something I should tell you."

Louis nods, mirroring the furrow of Liam's brow.

"I'm not saying that... that my relationship with Liam- it wasn't smooth either. You know that. We were alright, and it got hard after that. We were fighting when I left and even after. The first two years after that were gone to the dogs, with Li and I. But, you had problems of yours own too, didn't you? I left by the time you guys were going through that rough patch. I thought if I left that moment, you would get closer, you know?"

Liam seems to realise what he is trying to say, because he perks up. His face contorts into panic. "Z, don't. Not right now. You don't need-"

"No, he has to know," Zayn bites out fiercely. "How long will I keep it?"

It's another secret, that's for sure. The tendrils of dread return inside Louis, crawling up his throat in eerie jitters. "How long will you keep what?" He croaks out.

"Why do you think we chose, I chose to leave right then? When I left the band? I could've waited a couple more months and we would've gone on hiatus and it would be easier for me to not come back. Is that not right?" Upon Louis's confused nod, he proceeds. "Have you thought about it? Why did this bugger do this? Why at that moment?"

Louis shrugs. "I was busy being angry, so, no."

Zayn looks like he might strike him across the face, but he quickly recovers and his eyes are demanding once again. "Christ," he swears. "You're as daft as Harry sometimes. I can't believe you didn't realise." He breaths in like he's trying to swallow his anger. "You know, the moment I left, I had media covering me from every angle, so it would take focus off you lot and onto to me. It was a strategy. It- they were trying to seed you and Harry in. That's what management decided."

"What?"

Zayn sighs, massaging his forehead. "If I had all the attention on me, they were trying to subtly bring out Harry and you so that when you come out, it wouldn't have been difficult. Focus on me, focus off you, but enough to notice there was something going on. But, that's the time you both chose to break it off permanently. Great timing," he snorts. "I didn't sacrifice- let's not call it sacrifice. I didn't throw myself to the sharks so that you both wouldn't come out. It was a strategy and you were supposed to go with it. I had faith in both of you that you would get it together and put yourself out there like you always wanted to. What a waste," he concludes, but he says it in the tone of resignation. "I'm just telling you to think about it, okay? You know I'm a cynic, and you should understand why I'm telling you this. Think about it."

And, there goes the small bit of hope that Louis might be able to sleep.

\---

Moon felt miserable.

That was the one first fact from the list, pathetic and stupid were a close second. She sighs to herself, glaring at a dull coloured wall, sitting on a lumpy bed with freshly spread sheets in a room in Harry's London flat. With the rain pattering outside, she could almost say the feeling was ineffable, but it wasn't. It was simply her being her usual poxy stuff. And this had just been Karma, and she got what she deserved. All because of her bloody curiosity.

But, what was so wrong in wanting to know? She was shocked on finding out the ultimate secret, but more horrified at the scene that happened later on. She just wants to escape somewhere for a while and not exist. That would do. But, she most certainly had to pay the price for poking her nose in matters that were implictly hers.

The tears had stopped their rampage about a while ago, half an hour after they got home. Harry didn't say a word to her since they left that place. She doesn't even know why she felt the impulse to leave, it wasn't a bad decision. She needed to be away from all the eyes of pity, and probably with her Pappa who shares the same feeling as her. But, she couldn't bring herself to got talk to him.

Everything was so useless. She was warned before. She was told it wasn't going to work out, but she like a stubborn ox had gone and done it her way, and the way it's turned out... nobody's left happy. She can't even explain why she wants to slap herself when she thinks once upon a time, she wanted her fathers back together again. They were complimentary to each other, and she felt whole as a family. But, that fact wasn't enough to rekindle a relationship.

"Moon," Harry calls, standing timidly by the door. She shakes her head away from her reverie and looks at him with tired eyes. As the minutes went by, she was getting sleepier. "Will you have supper? It's nothing heavy, just some soup."

Now, she wouldn't pass up on a offer to eat despite anything, but. "No, thank you, I'm not hungry."

Harry tries to smile. "I know how much you like chicken noodle soup, pumpkin. Come on, now."

"I'm not hungry, Pappa," she cements. "You go ahead."

"Don't be like that."

Moon goes back to glowering at the wall. "Don't force me."

She feels Harry's gaze of heat on the side for a long moment, her muscles tensing up all over. For a second, she thinks he's going to start yelling. With the situation so bungled up, she couldn't expect less. But, then, he sighs deeply and strides by to her and gingerly sits beside her, an inch of space beween them. "I wasn't hungry either. Thought you would be, so I made something for you." She doesn't reply. "Moon. Moonie. I hate it when you don't talk to me, pumpkin. It's horrible and I know you hate me right now. But, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, sweetheart. I don't think I have an excuse this time."

"You don't," she agrees, then, "I don't hate you."

"But, you are undoubtedly angry at me," he points out. "I'm so sorry, though. Like you said, I should have told him before it got this huge of a mess. And I should have told you before because- I thought you wouldn't understand. You're beyond your years, Moonie. And, if you're angry, then I should be able to face it because I brought it on myself," he takes in a breath and seems to have the courage to grasp one of her hands in one of his own. "I shouldn't have made all this mess. But, don't think for one second, that I don't love you. I will never regret you and you'll always be my first priority no matter what." There's a dangerous pause. "I should have left you there, shouldn't I? This is unfair, for me to take you away from him again. He doesn't deserve it. He's more your father than I am. Biologically, he is."

Moon shakes her head. "His biology doesn't really support me when I need it. It doesn't tell me I'm strong or that it loves me. If anybody is more my father, it would be you, Pappa. Don't be an idiot like I was." Harry chokes on a sob. It's the first time after the whole charade that he's crying and immediately, her heart breaks. She turns to him and hugs his side tightly, trying to blink back the new wave of tears. "Don't cry, Pappa. I can't bear it. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have snooped around."

He sniffles and burries his face in the ruffled hair on top of her head. "Do you know why I named you Moon, pumpkin?"

She snorts. "No. Well, erm... Dad said you were quite the hipster back then."

Harry smiles slightly against her hair. "Your dad always said that to tease me. But, no, that's not why."

"Then?"

He tightens his hand around her's. "Louis Tomlinson was my sun, Moonie. He shined so bright that I. I never doubted it. And when I left... all I was left with was darkness. It was my fault, of course, but. You were. You were a piece of him, you were my satellite and you made me want to see a tomorrow for you. You shined the way he did. You were my Moon, because he was my sun."

Moon remains silent for a beat after the confession. "I still think he is, Pappa. I still think he's your sun."

"Yeah," he squeezes his eyes. "You think so?"

"I've never seen you like that," she says in reason. "You were fighting and you kept looking at each other like you couldn't believe it. You were fighting so passionately when I heard you, it made me think about how you both actually started off. I don't know if that's love, but you still do care about each other. I think that's what matters."

He tries to shrug. "You've met him. You know it's not really easy to stop loving a person like him."

For some reason, Moon feels a layer of serenity envelope them. Perhaps with her father coming clean to her, he'd finally seen her as an equal and there were no barriers between them. She was starting to get to know her father all over again, and she was ready to do that to earn his trust. "We'll be alright, won't we, Pappa," she asks after a prolonged quiet. "We'll get over this and you'll still be my best friend, right?" At once, she can feel the rough nod of Harry's head on top of her and she knows she's at a bit at peace. They were going to be alright and that's was all that was relevant.

\---

The next day flows smoothly, albeit it being a bit awkward in the morning. They wake up and reminisce the previous days encounters. Moon is hesitant to smile, but to Harry, it seems like a baby step to trusting him again. At least that was one thing that made him feel better. There's meagre sun and a light drizzle of rain. enough to let them sit in the balcony and drink tea. Both of them cook lunch together and spend the rest of the after playing video games and the evening in some quiet. It nearly feels normal.

It's the second day that throws them off the lackadiasically building balance. Moon is perching in her room with a nice horror novel and Harry is working on his touchscreen, sitting haphazardly on the sofa, a little while after breakfast. Five minutes later, he's standing at the ajar door, mouth just as ajar. "How did you-" he starts off in disbelief.

"I made Lottie ask Gemma and your doorman recognised me," Louis trills carelessly, and brushes past him without permission. With the dining table by the entrance, he takes up initiative to stand against one of the chair with an expectant expression. For a mere second, Harry is struck by how the scene is eerily similiar to that of a hallmark film. But, the thought is expelled at once as Louis's face contorts into a stoic one. "I haven't come here to have a tea-party. I came here... for my rights. And then, I'll be on my way."

This was exactly what Harry had been dreading since the beginning. He knew that his ex would come after them the moment he found out. But, that doesn't stop him from being caught off-guard. "No," he says with a voice of stone.

"Pardon?"

"I said no," Harry answers with confidence coming from nowhere. He marches forward to the table. "You cannot have her. It isn't fair."

Louis stares at him for a long beat, before he laughs sardonically. "I don't think you're allowed to talk about what's fair and what's not. Seeing as the situation has always been your hands."

Harry shakes his head stubbornly.

His cool demeanor is what's scary about Louis. He looks down at his feet with a sigh and peers at Harry's face with cold eyes. "I have adoption papers in my coat pocket. You will sign them and you won't protest, got it?" His voice is sleek, like the movement of a panther's, eyes training just as seriously. He slips his hand into the said pocket and crosses his foot over the other. "You don't want me to find another way, do you? I can go to the court. One paternity test is all it will take."

Harry's eyes widen horrifically. The fear in his chest begins to conquer the beat of his heart on the thought of Moon being taken away. "You wouldn't..."

"Oh, but I would," Louis confirms airily. "Or you could get this over quickly and this won't end the bad way. We'll make an arrangement later. Probably one month at yours and one month at mine."

Harry stops short, mouth going dry. "What? What do you mean? One month?"

"Do you prefer two months each, then?"

He furrows his eyebrows. "So, you aren't taking her completely? Like, permanently?"

It's Louis's turn to mirror his expression. "Oh god, no! Why would I take her away from you? She'll hate me for that. I just want her share her time with us equally. Don't make me the villain, Harry."

Harry begins to apologise, but he's cut off by Moon trotting into the room. Her eyes are big as she glances between both of then, finally coming to a stop on Louis. "Dad?"

A rueful smiles plays across Louis's lips when he catches sight of his daughter. His eyes are lit when he nods her over. "Moon," he breathes out, watchful arms unfurling out for her slightly. She takes a bold step forward and stumbles to bury herself underneath he coat, bundled tightly against his torso in a hug. He kisses the crown of her head, just like Harry does sometimes and speaks to her head. "I'm so sorry, love."

"I'm sorry too," she mumbles, and Harry is caught by how perfect both of them look; father and daughter. "We should've talked, but we didn't."

"We can talk all you want no," Louis offers with a blinding smile. He looks ten years younger with the crow's feet by his eyes and flashing teeth. He pulls back from her, but keeps an arm around her shoulders as though he doesn't want her to run away. "Infact, you'll get sick of me by the time we're done. I'm never letting you go, yeah? We can do special outings, probably a long drive. Everyday will a father-daughter day." He turns her towards the table and takes out a wad of crisp white papers from his pocket. He smoothes them out on the table and holds out a pen to her just as Harry comes closer to them. "I need you to sign these."

"You're adopting me," Moon realises, her eyes twinkle as she takes the pen from him.

"There's no question that I wouldn't," Louis promises and pats her on the back. "I can get them sanctioned as quickly as possibly, it isn't a worry. He gives Harry an uneasy smile.

Moon glances up at Harry with questioning eyes, and grasps his hand when he gives her a minute nod. It's reassurance to both of them, and he feel alleviated more than anything. She scrawls her name in the blank spaces that Louis points out and offers the pen to Harry. "C'mon, Pappa," she encourages.

His fingers are shaking as he grips the pen, perspiration a meek reminder at the back of his neck. He doesn't know how things will turn out to be, but he knows Louis deserves to have Moon in his life and vice-versa. He knows Moon will always come back to him no matter what, because though guilty, he will forever be her father. He sniffs and signs on the dotted lines with a little bit of trepidation in the shelves of his chest.

"That's done, then," Louis announces, sliding the papers and pen into his pocket. He smiles quickly at the both of them, and focuses on his daughter. "I'm not taking you with me now. I have a few things at the label to take care , which will be done in about three days. So, after that, I can devote all my time to you and take you home with me. Till then, I want you to assure your Pappa that I'm taking you away forever, alright?"

Moon giggles in reply. "I will, Dad."

"Wonderful," Louis enunciates with flourish, but his lips turn down for a second and he glimpses at Harry. "Now, your father and I have things to talk about."

"Okay," She says with a smile that turns quickly into a smirk. "I'll be in my room." And, she's off like that, skipping past the kitchen.

Once they hear the door slip shut, Harry fires up. "Does it have to be a month? I don't think that would be ideal. We could have her two weeks at a time? Does that seem fair? A month is too much. And, what about- we're going back to Cali. How does this happen, what-"

"Harry, calm down," Louis says lackadaisically. "I think we can discuss that later. There's no rush for that, and I think all three of us have to sit and talk about it together. She gets to have an opinion about this too, right?" He purses his chapped lips. "I wanted to tell you something. Like you said, that day; clearing the air. You said whatever you had to, and I didn't. So, I'd like to... clear my own account."

His eyebrows furrow. He couldn't come up with what Louis wanted to say. Since he's come, he spoke in terms of negotiation. It was hardly possible that he would turn harsh. "What do you want to tell me?"

"I did come back for you, you know," Louis says gingerly.

"Sorry?"

"You said you wanted me to fight for you. You're right, I didn't fight for you, but I didn't come to ask you back. Because I knew I was better with you by my side." He sighs, shrugging his shoulders under his coat. Harry's mouth runs dry. There are a million tiny pinpricks stabbing him all over, but he forces himself to listen. "In 2017... I remember thinking 'I don't care if I lose my respect or if my ego is hurt. I'm going to give it a try. It's worth it, he's worth it,' I was going to run back to you like in the movies. But..."

"But what, Louis?" Harry's voice is hoarse. And he feels so daft.

"I did come to the LA house, the one that's registered under your name. I hadn't been there in two years and I came and your security let me in without questioning me. And, so I snuck to your back door in the kitchen." He smiles wistfully to himself. "I was just about to open the door when I looked through the mesh and you were dancing while making a fry-up, and I thought 'Classic Harry behaviour' and there was a woman by your side. Now, I found out she was Cambria, but back then, I didn't know that, did I?" His brows tremble as if he's taken by the memory. "She was laughing and you were smiling at her... like nothing was holding you back. I immediately knew... I was too late."

"W-What?"

Louis shrugs again. He was trying to play it off as cool, but the both of them were clearly weighed down by the words. "And, so, I left. Like a coward. I thought I legit heard my heart break that day."

Harry doesn't know what to say, he's stunned and his mouth opens to spill words but the tears of shock push them down into his stomach as the feeling of nausea rises in his throat. Things would have been different for them if not for that. They would've gotten back together with a few stitches and probably (after Louis would forgive him) have Moon together and they would've lived in London the rest of their life, with only impromptu trips to LA. Louis would read during bedtime, and Harry would run her a bath. She'd have both her parents instead of having to investigate the entire thing, and have it end in torn out secrets. "I-I. I'm sorry." What else can he say. "I'm so sorry."

Louis smiles that smile he's been keeping up since the beginning. It's tiny and sad and gut-wrenching. "I'm sorry, too," he says softly, and then he's gone. Out the door, like a wind. All there is left is the goosebumps that have erupted on Harry's skin.

\---

"You get nervous around Dad," Moon points out not-so-helpfully with a wide grin.

Harry stops shaking his leg and glowers at her through narrow eyes, but his shoulders drop from their perked position and he looks defeated. If he was old enough to pout, he would. "I know," he laments. "I can't help it."

The pair of them are sat immovably on the sofa, with the telly across them in a low volume. Neither of them were paying any interest to it; Harry trying to suppress his thoughts and Moon trying to read them. It was about an hour ago that Moon recieved a text from Louis, asking for Harry's contact number. Ten minutes later, Harry had a message on his phone that said his ex was coming by to pick his daughter up in an hour. Which had gotten Harry in quite the frenzy. He straightened up the flat twice, while Moon watched coolly with knowing smile.

She hums. "If it helps, he gets nervous around you too."

He feels palliated at that. "He does?"

Moon nods in reply. "He's been calling me every night before bed for the last four days. He asks about you alot. He doesn't know how to approach you. Don't tell him I told you, but he admitted that you make him nervous."

He gapes at her. "But. But he's so calm!"

"That's because he's a better actor than you. Than you'll ever be," she says with a snort.

The doorbell chooses the correct moment to ring. Harry slides out of his place, flashing his daughter an undecipherable look before he saunters to the door. He pauses before the door for a moment to compose himself and prepares up a smile on his face. When it swings open, it reveals a beaming Louis. "Hello, there."

"Hi," Harry manages to utter. The latter makes his waltzes in with his unwavering brilliant smile. "Tea?"

"Uh, no thanks," Louis replies politely. "We should get going. I have something planned out for the evening," at her remembrance, he glances over at his daughter and grins even bigger. "Love, you ready?" She nods in reply, standing up. "I left your bedroom as it is, and everything is there. If you need clothes, we can buy more. Whatever the necessity is."

"Actually, I'll be out in a minute," Moon says. "Pappa bought me some clothes, and I'll bring them just in case."

"You do that, darling," Louis says fondly, and she walks into her bedroom. He turns back to Harry. "So, will you stay here till Zayn and Liam's wedding? Because you can see her there. Until then, she'll be with me."

Harry had completely forgotten about the upcoming wedding. Which was where the entire drama had started. He feels like laughing. "That's almost a month away! You're going to have her until then?!"

Louis rolls his eyes and stifles a frown. "You had her for thirteen years, Harry, I think it's okay for me to have her for a month."

Harry tries to look as vehement as he can. "Are you going to keep pulling that card," he grumbles.

"Alright, alright," Louis begins defensively. "I'm sorry, I won't do that, but, just this once, please? I swear we can talk the terms later on. Please?"

"It's-" he begins to protest, but when he stops to put thought into it, he sort of understand. Louis was new to fatherhood, and seemed eager to catch every angle of it. Harry was somewhat the same too, he'd nearly documented everything Moon did as a baby, and refused to put her down when he picked her. He couldn't really be blamed. "Fine. I'll see her at the wedding. Please remind her to call me though. You know how that went last time."

Louis's eyes soften, and he grips Harry's arm and squeezes it, and extracts it. It's enough to send a short circuit through Harry's veins. "Thank you so much."

"Yeah, uh, it's alright," Harry babbles quickly. "She's really excited. I bet you'll have some good bonding sessions." At that, Louis lights up once again, and Harry has to avert his gaze as the latter mutters out an agreement. "Moon's been going off about moving to London," he reveals.

Louis is immediately surprised, he does a double take. "Really?"

"Yeah, she's brought it up around fifty times in the last few days. I'm thinking... it's not that much of a bad idea. We don't have an interesting life there, but it's closer to home if we even consider coming here."

"It is," Louis nods elatedly. Of course, he does. He can frequently see his daughter.

"I have a branch of my label in London, and I suppose I can handle it from here, along with a once-a-month trip to LA. She's been begging for quite some time. I guess, you've just given her more reason," Harry says nonchalantly.

There's something in Louis's face that phases; his features become more defined and his eyes are more larger and glassier. He clears his throat, maintaining eye contact. "Sometimes, we should listen to what our children say. It brings us some good."

Harry scoffs. "Yeah, but moving across the world is another-"

"That's not what I meant." His tone is quiet, calm but shaking underneath.

Harry shakes his head, not bothering to hide his smile. "Then, what else? She might go-" The words stop dead in his mouth just as Louis leans forward and plants their lips together. Quiet is all there is, and they aren't touching, but suddenly their faces aren't even an inch away. It's not a peck, but it isn't a proper kiss either. It's quite short, but long enough to make Harry's brain cells detach from everything and his insides erupt in flames.

When Louis takes a step back to put respectable distance between them, he looks as scandalised as Harry feels. Harry can feel the cavity of his chest expand so much, he feels like he would burst and fly into the air in smithereens of fire and goo. Merely a touch of lips is enough to make him feel as though he drove off a cliff, plummeted through air and went headfirst into salty water.

"I'm all set," Moon announces as she comes in with a cloth bag. She turns to Louis's ashen face, but doesn't take notice. "Shall we leave?"

Louis ducks his head like his neck had been unhinged and clears his throat. "Say goodbye to your father." With that, he walks back to the door and stands by it.

Moon jumps and latches her arms around Harry's neck. Before he can reciprocate the hug, she's pulling away and smacking a kiss to his cheek. "Bye, Pappa. Take care of yourself and eat on time. You have lunch with Auntie Gemma tomorrow, don't forget. One more thing, I love you. I'll see you soon, 'kay?"

Harry nods meekly. Words are still dead in his mouth.

They leave, but he's stuck in the same place, rewinding the same thing over and over again. He blinks a few times to get rid of it, but it's burnt behind his eyelids. He stands there for another fifteen minutes, and tries to push down the uprising smile.

\---  
  


_ **Four Weeks Later** _

 

It's five on the dot when Harry enters the wedding hall. It doesn't look like one, as Zayn and Liam must have done a fusion and blurred out the usual traditions with the modern techniques. There are quite a few of pearly tables with tiny placards pasted on the face of the red chairs. His name was up front since it really was a small wedding. Family and close friends, Zayn had notified.

The ceilings were adorned with large chandeliers that stretched across the hall in glass webs. In the front was a set up dais with a large palanquin. There is no long aisle, but a large space by the dais for the entire ceremony. There's a buzz of people, sat at their tables with animated conversations chattering across the length of the room. A train of children in silk dresses collectively create a rampage which only brightens the place. It's going to be an excellent wedding, he can tell.

There are few people he can recognise, a few he cannot. Several people who've signed under Liam's label are present as well, and he learns their names when they introduce themselves with zeal. There are Zayn's cousins clattering about, some of who he's met and recollects as he watches them run after a few of Liam's relatives. What catches him off guard is when he ends up face to face with a pair of very familiar blue eyes.

"Harry," Perrie gasps, mouth twisting into a smirk as she bounces a baby boy in her arms. "Been too long, hasn't it, darling?" She gives him a one armed embrace that he's too slow at reciprocating. By her side, Jesy shows a clear view of enthusiasm and hugs him so tight his nervousness vanishes for a second. Perrie speaks again. "I just met Moon. She's grown up a fair bit. And she told me she came with Louis, which gave me a heart attack."

He scrunches his nose. "He's taking her for a while. She's been sick of me, and we're trying to work out an arrangement so that she sees both of us." Her eyebrow raises expectantly, and Jesy laughs by her side. "You both are friends, he'll fill you in, later. Now, tell me who's offspring you've kidnapped here?" He smiles instinctly at the boy in her arms, reaching out to touch his cheek.

"You might be hiding your children, but I'm not," Perrie scoffs, her eyes rolling. "Recent addition, he is. The other two are at school. Last time we talked, this bubba was in me stomach. Jael, say hi to Harry, please."

The boy burrows further in his mum's neck. "Jael?"

Jesy laughs raucously. "You know her. She's smitten with her husband and she likes all these common Jewish names. She doesn't even introduce herself as 'Perrie Edwards' anymore, it's-"

"Perrie Edwards-Puth," she says proudly. "Charlie loves it."

Harry speaks to them a little while before he finds Tricia and Karen chattering themselves, eyes wide as their smiles while their fingers hold daintly onto flutes of champagne. It wasn't even cocktail hour, but it seemed like nobody held those anymore. Weddings were the reason for booze anytime. He hugs his congratulations into them and walks off, drinking in more of his surroundings.

What catches him off guard is a body that collides with him. He quickly relaxes when he looks down to see a brown mop of hair and twiddly arms wrap around his torso. "Pappa," Moon mutters into his stomach. "I've missed you." She separates from him with a face splitting grin and bounches up to peck him on the cheek. "You didn't miss me too much, did you?"

He steadies her by the shoulder with a laugh. His hands go up to mellow his daughter's hair out of her eyes. "More than I thought I would. Your father seems to want to cover thirteen years all at once," he smiles warmly. "You look beautiful, pumpkin. And so grown up." She's wearing a purple chiffon dress that reaches her knees in shreds with her hair spun into curls with the tips an alarming red. Her make-up is light and her liner is spun around her eyes in an intricate design. It's topped off with a pair of pearl drop earrings, nude lipstick and black wedges. "You look like you brought the party, Moonie."

She blushes a dusty pink, dropping her gaze to the floor, but her grin doesn't waver. "Dad called Aunt Lou and Lux by. They got a nasty shock, both of them. But, they got me to pull this off in the end," she gestures to herself vaguely.

At the specific mention of him, the only thing that flashes in Harry's mind is The Kiss. He wasn't sure if it was classified so, but he remembers the feeling of being lost right after that like he had been clawing at reality only to have it been there the entire time. He had just planted one Harry and walked off like an everyday occurence. But, only Harry had felt like grenade had been thrown his way with just a brush of forest fire across his lips that seared throughout his nerves. He hated thinking about it. Thinking about it made him feel hopeful. Thinking about him made him want everything back.

They've been apart for fifteen years and they've grown into their new skins. They live in two different continents, and bringing up their daughter like that was impossible. Moon needed a stable environment and the need to not choose between both of them. He had decided and he was to tell Louis somehow that he was moving back to London. Leaving behind the winery and the friends was going to be tough, but he had it easier in Britain; with his fashion label branch and his own parents. But, thinking about Louis didn't make things better for him. The entire idea was far-fetched.

"Where is he, your dad?" He finds himself asking.

Moon eyes him curiously, curved eyebrows grooving down in question. "Erm. I think he's with Uncle Liam. He was screaming something about pre-wedding jitters when we came in. They might be in one of the rooms by the front, mostly the one to the left. I'm not sure."

For some reason, Harry feels himself blush. "I-I. We have to. You know, discuss. Like-"

"I understand, Pappa," she says lightly, still scrutinising him. She hasn't understood, she's clearly misunderstood. "Think he's waiting for you anyway, go."

"But-"

"Off you go," she orders, before pushing him in the direction and running off to go talk to someone he can only assume is Aisha. He clears his throat and walks forward after straightening himself up. Upon reaching the room, he raps his knuckles against the door dubiously and waits a moment before he hears a voice beckoning him in.

The room is a spacious one with cream walls and smooth wallpaper. There's a nice teak dressing table to the side and a couple of sofas. Before the mirror by the table, there a various range of body products lined viciously next to each other. But, across them is a frantic Liam Payne. He seems to be right in the middle of a dramatic soliloquy with his broad eyes and flailing arms. "It's going to catastrophic!" He proclaims. "I'm going to walk out there, trip on my trousers and fall on my face. I can hear the laughter already. Look at Liam, he can't stand on his own feet!"

Most importantly, behind Liam's chair is Louis Tomlinson sleeping on the sofa, phone in his face. He rolls his eyes, and continues tapping away on his device. "Oh shut up, Liam. You sound like those... those bridezillas." His eyes flicker up to meet Harry's. "Look who's come for you while you were screaming your lungs off."

At that Liam snaps his head towards the door and breaks into a relieved smile. "Harry!" He jumps off his chair and nearly trips over himself as he makes his way to the door. He isn't in a suit. He's in a sleek black _sherwani_ with sequins peppered on it and plunging neckline. It spreads across his shoulders in a perfect fit and the tunic reaches mid thigh before the a pair of puffy trousers begin. It looks different from the usual scenario. "I'm very glad you're here. I think I'm losing my mind," He latches himself onto to Harry with so much tightness, but only briefly as he pulls back. "Louis's really not helping. I'm thinking of revoking his best man priviledges."

"Oi!"

Harry smiles and gives him a once over. "Well, I think this is going to be the best wedding ever. Look at you, you look dashing. Decided to grow out your beard? You look proper Paki, now." Liam smiles blindingly. "I bet Zayn looks good, and he's freaking out just as much as you are."

"Zayn _is_ freaking out," Louis agrees. "But, he's doing it with class."

Liam turns back scowls at him and walks to the dressing table again, bending over to fix his already perfect hair while glancing worriedly at himself. Then, he freezes and whips around. His eyes trail from Harry to Louis and his brows raise. "Right, okay," he mutters to himself. "I need to make a phonecall," he concludes, peering closely at the both of them. "I'll be in the other room for a while." He slips behind a door Harry failed to see before.

"You dare to meet Zayn! I'll chop your sack off, and there'll be no honeymoon for you!" Louis screeches after him. Then, he looks towards Harry and probably realises that they're the only ones in the room. "He's been like that since morning, and it's driving me crazy," he explains nervously, as he stands up and wipes his palms on his trousers. Harry wonders if he can feel the tension between them like he does, like a buzzing reminder in his ears. Despite him wiping his sweaty palms, Harry can't guess if the latter is as anxious as him or not. Maybe they had to walk on eggshells for the rest of their lives. Karma was coming back to bite him.

"Wedding day can bring out the worst and best in you," Harry answers nonchalantly. He should leave now. He shouldn't stay here.

Louis purses his lips, then letting them shape into a small smile. "Weird how everything's alright until the word 'marriage'. It's a taboo, because until then you don't really quit, but from that moment onward, you try not to think of possibilities to do so," he says. In which direction the words were aimes, Harry couldn't figure out. "You- you, look nice. Err. How have you been doing?"

"I'm alright," Harry talks past the heat in his cheeks, wishing Louis wouldn't stare intently at him. "I just did the Walk Of Shame from the parking lot to here," he says with a chuckle that he cuts short. "Not like that. Since I've come, all everybody is asking me how I've hidden a daughter."

Louis hums noncommitally, continues to look at Harry in eerie silence, before he gazes at his shoes for a while. A long while. Harry finds himself uncomfortable, as he listens to the steady but fast heartbeat that's resonating all the way to his temples. He had already speaked, didn't he? He did his part of talking, and he cannot steer Moon's other father into a conversation he isn't interested in. He clenches his fists to his sides, nails digging into his palms to keep him under consciousness. Finally, Louis speaks again. "Harry, can we stop pretending we don't know that Liam left the room so that we can talk?"

Harry remains silent. He doesn't trust the coordination between his mind and mouth.

"You know, I've been thinking," Louis says breezily, wetting his lips as he tries to remain a patterned eye contact with the younger and his own shoes. He's slowly inching forward; subtly like a walking through long sleek grass. "I mean, how could I not? Life presented me another opportunity after kicking me in the back of me head. I would be stupid not to think about it. I would be stupid to stop myself from thinking about it."

"Louis-" Harry begins, panic pitching his voice. He knew where this was going.

"Hear me out, yeah? Let me say my piece and you can tell me your judgement," he negotiates, before licking his lips again. "See, when we met for the first time, we... we met, right? And... when we met the second time on the same day... we met. The third time- the third time we. Met."

"What..."

"No, no, that's not what I," Louis shakes his head like it's going to fall off his neck and roll down his back. "No, that wasn't what I wanted to say. This isn't. This wasn't supposed to go this way. I practiced this, I was supposed to tell you correctly. God, I messed it up!" He takes a deep breath and his posture straightens up, and he's much more closer and Harry can't exactly breath. "Look. Harry. I just. Everybody called us soulmates, didn't they? There wasn't a person who didn't." He's peering straight into Harry's eyes, as it's a window to all his secrets; his feelings. "Okay, that was too straight forward, but you get what I mean, don't you?

"That's what we were- back then. We were soulmates. We were symbols for it. Right? And, eventually, it became a title rather than a goal. I think I started taking it for granted. I think we both did," Louis confesses. There's something in Harry's throat that's pressing down his words and constricts him from protesting. "But. I always loved you like I didn't deserve it. I swear. Not for one moment did I take you for granted. What we had for granted, yes, but never you.

"I think this is overdue for me to say. Very overdue. But, I'm putting it out there. I don't care if you think worse than what you already think of me. I really don't care." He chuckles. "That's how pathetic I am. I know we were young, and we weren't as strong as we thought we were. I think it's been a good number of years and we've learnt a lot of things and we've grown up. And, I'm standing in front of you. You're standing in front of me. It's been a while, and after all this time I. I, erm." He sighs. "Do you think we have another chance? Do you think we can try again?"

"Louis," Harry enunciates softly. His voice has returned as a croak, with the dryness of his throat. "You. You can't say that. It's too late."

All of a sudden, Louis looks like a deer in the headlights; all vulnerability flashing over his face, his eyes and crumpled eyebrows. "I know. I know. But, you still have hope. You haven't applied for a divorce since you found out." Harry can't reply to that. "I'm happy, Harry, I really am. My life is a good one. But, it's always been better when you were around."

"I'm a changed man!"

"So am I. We've all evolved from ourselves. There's still so much I don't know about you. This time I want to stick around and find out." He stretches forward and grasps Harry's arm, making him jolt. "Tell me you don't feel even a little... optimistic about this. If you didn't, either of us would have had a happily-ever-after like the ones we've always wished for."

Harry profusely shakes his head. The initial trepidation had started to seep into his brain finally. It was happening. This was one thing he feared hopefully. "No. _No._ You're not supposed to- Louis, you haven't forgiven me. You haven't. You- you can't."

Louis tries to take a tentative step forward, only in vain because Harry takes one back till his back is supported by a merciful chair. "I haven't forgiven you. But, I know I will. It'll take me some time, but I know that I can't not forgive you." He displays a resigned look. "You're you, Harry. I'm not even angry. I just need time with it."

"But, Moon-"

"At the moment, Moon is not in this picture. She matters, because she's my- our daughter and we put her first. But, she would always support you in whatever, and you know that." He exhales shakily. His eyes are boring into Harry's; wide and honest and defenseless, but Harry can't look away. "I know for one, that without her, we wouldn't be here right now. We would be out there, avoiding each other as much as possible. I would be jumping from person to person instead of standing here with my guard down, begging you. See... I don't have a chance to call anything a mistake."

Harry feels his eyebrows slant down to the bridge of his nose, and he wishes he could stop feeling like crying. It's all he's been doing for a while, and he's so tired he just wants to turn back the last fifteen years and live them in another way.

"Remember what your mum told me when she sat me down to talk about you?" Louis asks, his voice sounds wet. "She told me that relationships don't just run on love, they run on stubborness. I... wasn't stubborn enough back then and I let you go. But, not this time, Harry, I swear. I won't let you walk away once more. You can say no now, you can go home with Moon after today, but I'll come in the evening. I'll come tomorrow. Hell, I'll come to California to ask you. And I won't stop until you say yes. I won't. I won't take no for answer."

Harry's eyes are burning with tears for sure. "I don't want this. I don't."

"Who are you trying to convince?" Louis shouts at once, making the latter flinch. His tone becomes comparitively softer. "Seriously, who? Yourself? Or me? Or anybody else? Because everybody out there knows how this'll end for us. I know, because I have faith on us. I see you, and I know if I try hard enough, I can have you back. It won't be the same, but I'll make the best of it." Harry can't say anything anymore. "We'll take it as slow as we can, alright? Your pace. You can go back to LA for a while, and then you can come back with Moon and tell me what you think. We can keep it long distance if you want us to. If the time seems right, I'll skive off to yours if I have to. And... I promise I won't be lazy. We can get a divorce, if you think I'm going to hold that against you. I'm not as--"

"Stop," Harry chokes out. "Please stop. You're not supposed to be this nice. You aren't."

"I'm not being nice," Louis breathes, he inches a little bit more closer and they're so close that Harry can count the number of freckles he once loved about Louis. His mouth quirks down in a sad smile, but his blue eyes are dead serious, set on Harry like they'll never let go. Harry tries to clutch onto the last shred of control he has, but has to let it free when he shudders and grasps the chair behind him with a silent gasp. "Harry, I'm not being nice. This is me doing myself a favour." Louis is not even a breath of away, impossibly close that it makes them cross their eyes to look at each other. "Because if I'm away from you for one more damned second, I won't be able to bear it."

Their lips finally meet, and a keening sound bubbles out of Harry's mouth which is immediately swallowed by another one. When Louis kissed him three weeks ago, it was like arousing from deep slumber, but this. This is like rising out of sleep and levitating straight into the air with a cold head rush. It's not like it feels all those years, it's definitely different. It's like all the layers peeled off his emotions and his all the tightness in his body undone with just a tiny pull.

Louis's nose is as cold as he remembers it to be, caressing against his cheek, little breaths emanating from his mouth every time his lips part. He kisses with such concentration that it makes Harry want to sob against him. His firm hands slide up Harry's sides in slow jerks till they're at his lapels, before they pull him even closer. The worst (or maybe best) part about it probably is that, it feels like relief. He can't bloody think, because this is it. This is raising to the surface after drowning, this is his one breath in a sulphurous atmosphere and this is the smallest of touches in an eternity of numbness.

It strikes him, that if they keep this up, they might as well melt into a cloud of ecstacy. Louis's fingers are curled around his belt loops and their hips are pressed together and they probably look like animals and Harry's hair is plausibly a mess. He himself is a mess. So, he gathers back all his senses and separates from Louis with utmost difficulty and a heaving chest.

"I-I. I'm sorry," he croaks out, digging his nails into the front of the chair he'd been clutching at desperately. Louis looks like he wants to argue. But, Harry can't stop looking at him. Blown eyes, swept hair, a rosy mouth; he has a hard time keeping his gaze on Louis's eyes while it travels rebelliously to his lips and back. Before he knows it, he's being pulled back into another kiss he cannot simply refuse.

He ponders once again, if he'll be able to make it up to Louis. Years of of apologies are due, of course. But, in his dreams, they're always back together despite anything. He knows they're only dreams and they'll never be true because dreams are just dreams. Unless they aren't aims, they don't become true. He'd let go of Louis being an aim a long time ago, reclaiming it was something he didn't deserve. But, still, he couldn't really help himself. His own daughter couldn't resist in contempt of knowing him, how could he?

There's a knock on the door that startles them into prying away from each other. The moment is ruined. Naturally, everything is. It snaps Harry completely out of his daze. When he glances over, Louis's face reflects a sense of susceptability. He did this; he indulged Louis. He wasn't supposed to. He was supposed to run for cover instead of exposing himself to more hope.

He quickly scampers to the door and cracks it open slightly. Moon stands with her hands on her hips, eyebrows high with expectation. "You're being summoned, Pappa, what are you doing here?" She suddenly barges into the room, door flapping out, revealing a dishevelled Louis. "Oh," she gasps.

Harry slides out the door at quick as possible and pulls her along with him. He has to let himself stop for a moment and breath, because there isn't any air. Why wasn't there any air? He can't take this on top of everything. If he had thought things were already horrible for him, this wasn't doing him any better.

"Pappa," Moon says softly, gripping his wrist. She's understood. "What-"

"It's nothing, pumpkin. Really. I'm fine," he musters up a convincing smile. "Now, you said someone had called for me?"

The ceremony is indeed beautiful. As expected, Liam and Zayn both come out in _sherwanis_ , apparently, suits are overrated; only, Zayn's is navy blue. In the beginning, a violin rendition of _Truly Madly Deeply_ by Savage Gardens plays in place of _Here Comes the Bride_. They don't walk down any aisle. Instead, the entire family stands at the stage the entire time with the designated best men, maidens and flower girls closer to the couple. Zayn and Liam sit inside the palaquin with the minister seated facing the audience, in front of the couple's entwined hands.

They do the usual reciting of vows, which is entertaining enough to revoke laughter from the crowds and the minister then asks their approval of the marriage, which alternately of 'I do', both of them enumerate something that sounds like _'qubool hai'_ which might be Urdu for the same. They have to appreciated for the fusion style.

Soon, the wedding reception starts. Just as suspected, there is no cocktail hour, but it goes straight to the couple's first dance. Zayn and Liam sway with their heads on each other's shoulders to a slow version of _Mirrors_ by Justin Timberlake, which no surprise there. They'd always made it clear that it was their song since the beginning. A bit later, other couples join the dancefloor to a song Liam had written for Zayn. Harry should go congratulate them, but they look too stuck their world to even acknowledge that their mothers had begun sobbing.

But, Louis like the wonderful charming gentleman he is, goes to console them and it only squeezes Harry's heart harder. Moon looks at him from the corner of her eye. He doesn't think she'll leave his side anytime soon, judging by the state of him. He continues watching everybody, watching Louis coax the mothers into stealing a dance from their respective son-in-laws. There's something too heavy in his chest, and he has a feeling it's going to drop into his stomach and bring him down.

After a quarter of an hour and quite a bit of moping, the songs turn upbeat before a bunch of clamouring people join the floor and shimmy their energy out. Niall comes by, claps him on the shoulder and pulls Moon away to dance with him. She continues looking at him with concern despite the smile he gives her. Gemma might be on her way after work. She could make him feel not so miserable. Maybe.

He's pulled back from his thoughts when a voice addresses him. "Do you want to dance?" Louis has one of his brows quirked, an awaiting hand stretched out to him. Harry's mouth runs dry and he can't even speak. But, he knows it isn't an invitation to just dance. This is Louis indirectly asking _do you want me in your life? do you want me to kiss you whenever i want to? do you want to raise our daughter together?_ He fears he cannot think this through in the million moments in those few seconds.

Harry can feel Moon's encouraging eyes on him. He doesn't care if anything will happen after this. He just knows he won't regret trying.

And so, he hesitates only for a second before he places his hand in Louis's, and he's being pulled forward. Out of the chair, into an adventure that's only resuming.

 

_ _

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. x


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